


To Live

by delicaterosebud



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst, Canon Compliant, Drug Addiction, Emotional Manipulation, Found Family, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Love Triangles, M/M, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2019-10-29 09:16:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 103,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17805275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delicaterosebud/pseuds/delicaterosebud
Summary: Held back by stubbornness and fear, a young Lea burns the bridges connecting himself to his closest friend, allowing their budding relationship to unravel into suspicion and malice. Though he soon finds comfort in new allies, to his horror, Axel soon finds that his are not the only loyalties that have changed.With his support system crumbling, Saïx loses sight of his former life’s purpose and, in a moment of weakness, seeks solidarity from the charismatic leader of Organization XIII. As Xemnas and Saïx grow closer, Axel must reconsider the role that he wishes to play in his former friend’s life – and whether he owes it to Isa’s memory to pull him from a toxic relationship that will, with no doubt, end in his destruction.





	1. Chapter 1

He pressed a cool beer against his forehead and sighed. Eyes closed, his imagination ran wild, picturing steam rising up from his skin with a satisfying hiss. He tugged at his tank top, groaning in disgust as sticky, sweat-soaked cotton peeled slowly away from his chest. Deep in the lull of their summer vacation, with absent parents and all the time in the world, the children of Radiant Garden lost themselves to lethargy and hedonism. Lea, most of all. Sixteen years old and shameless, dizzy on gas station beer and cheap tobacco, rolled between his failing report card. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with hot, humid air and cracked an eye open at the boy beside him. They sat together in the back of an abandoned car with vines creeping in between the windows and piercing through the cheap, cloth seats like a plague.

That car was about as poor and forgotten as they were - though only Lea looked the part. Always his opposite, Isa looked as pristine as ever, without a single hair out of place. Not as though he couldn’t be prone to his own brand of mischief, if it suited him. It had been Lea’s idea to get the smokes and the booze in the first place, but it was Isa who had actually pieced their plan together. Though he didn’t seem to have any interest in women, or men for that matter, Isa had flirted with that cashier all the same, slipping her his phone number with a dignified smile that Lea found equally charming and insufferable. It got the job done. Suddenly, they didn’t need an ID, after all.

“You actually gonna answer if that girl calls you?” Lea asked with a pathetic little huff, unable to hide his jealousy. “Or are you gonna ghost her?”

“I already have,” Isa answered, without ever once dropping that steady, apathetic monotone. “The phone number that I gave her was fake.”

Dumbstruck, Lea slapped his hands down onto the fake leather seat.

“Are you serious? You are literally the only guy who would ever cockblock himself like that. You know how many times you could’ve gotten laid by now if you weren’t such a hardass?”

“I don’t have any interest in that.” 

A little fracture cracked across his porcelain mask. With tears pricking at the corners of his golden eyes, Isa coughed around the joint they shared, just as he’d choked down his very first sip of beer, literally gagging. Lea had pointed and laughed, even though he’d sputtered, too. He couldn’t stand the sting of alcohol. When his tastes were better suited to sea salt ice cream and syrupy sodas, he just couldn’t understand what it was that adults liked so much about alcohol to begin with. He was certain that Isa shared that opinion, and yet the both of them pounded back those beers, one after the other. So eager to play at being full grown men instead of children, barely out of puberty. In a way, Lea felt honored. Isa wouldn’t have put himself through that kind of torture for just anyone, after all. He must have wanted to impress him, too. Just like Lea, Isa must have wanted to trick his companion into believing he was more mature and more ready for the real world than either of them actually were. 

“Not even in girls? Man, nothing interests you.” 

Despite Lea’s gentle scolding, Isa tilted his head up just a little bit higher, as though he were almost proud of that fact. Unbelievable. 

“Apathy’s a bad look, you know,” Lea continued. “Keep up that attitude, and you’ll end up all alone one of these days.”

“I’ll still have you, won’t I?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but –” 

Before Lea could protest any further, Isa’s finger pressed against his mouth, silencing him. 

“Then I’ll be fine. That’s all I really needed to hear. …You’re the only thing that interests me, anyways.” 

A fierce blush blossomed across Lea’s cheeks, turning his face as red as his hair. Unable to piece together the words to express even a fraction of the embarrassment, the fear, the _excitement_ , that had jolted through him at that very moment, Lea only turned away with an awkward laugh and took another swig of his beer. 

Even with that heavy confession hanging over their heads like an iron curtain, there was a calmness and comfort between them – one that only grew in fullness and intensity the more they drank. Their minds filled with cotton. Their bodies turned warm and heavy with the weight of alcohol on their tongues. 

“Did you really mean what you said back there?” Lea finally asked, breaking the silence – but only because he knew that Isa would have been content to sit in it forever. “About… being interested. …In me.”

“Does that bother you?” The corner of Isa’s lips tilted up into a subtle smile, though there was a stiffness in his posture that Lea was able to discern only due to the fact that they knew each other well, shared their secrets, and their fears, and their dreams with one another. Isa was afraid, even if he didn’t dare to show it.

“Well… maybe a little. I mean, not really. It’s just that… you’re a guy. You know? And _I’m_ a guy.”

“You’re the most important person in my life,” Isa replied with sincerity and a startling confidence. “That’s all that matters to me. It doesn’t matter what you look like or what you think defines you.” 

“Isa…”

Honestly. Isa was the only boy in their entire town who’d have the courage to scoff at him like that right after pouring his heart out. So annoyed and impatient, as though he couldn’t stand how long it was taking for Lea to formulate a coherent answer. It was charming, in a way. Typical Isa. Even in his moments of weakness, he was always so irritable. 

That furrowed brow and little scowl –

Lea couldn’t help but laugh. Despite his fears, his heart swelled with fondness and familiarity. Adrenaline pulsed through his bloodstream and, fueled by liquid courage and perhaps just a little bit of youthful foolishness, he leaned in for a kiss, chaste and endlessly warm. 

He wouldn’t have ever known it, but at that moment, smiling down at his very best friend, Lea shined brighter than the sun. 

What he felt at that moment, though he was too immature and too afraid to truly understand its intricacies, was nothing more and nothing less than his first true spark of love. And he was certain that Isa felt it too. 

He’d wanted that moment to last for a lifetime. 

_______________________________________

…Even if wasn’t meant to last.

Time stopped for no man; their summer vacation had to come to a close, sooner or later. Though they’d had weeks to prepare for the end of times, the next year of school rushed towards them as abruptly as ever. And closer it came, the more Lea was overpowered by a looming sense of dread and fear – a fear of change, and hardship, and responsibility. 

He’d never had a relationship. Not with anyone. Though he’d always daydreamed of finding himself a girlfriend, those fantasies only ever went as far as dinner dates and heavy groping. The girls in his imagination were always clawing at each other, fighting for the chance to date him, so eager to please. They could never be hurt by a careless, passing comment. They would never need support when they slipped and stumbled because at the end of the day, those manic, pixie dream girls were just that – _dreams_ , whereas a relationship with Isa was just too real. 

Far too serious and too much work. 

Though, perhaps, what terrified Lea above all else, was the fact that it was risky: coming out in front of the entire school was just begging for ridicule. It was social suicide. He cared for Isa dearly, but in the end, Lea just wasn’t entirely certain whether he was prepared to endure such hardship, even for his friend’s behalf. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that he would never make it out alive if he didn’t jump ship while it was still so close to harbor. It broke his heart to do it, yet when he’d walked to class with Isa on the first day of school, Lea summoned every last ounce of his courage to blame their little love affair on the alcohol and the sugar rush, insisting that it, too, was meant to wither away with a whimper alongside the last days of summer. Though Lea had brought candy and tissues in his pockets in anticipation of a veritable breakdown, in typical Isa fashion, the boy responded only a casual affirmation that he was fine and that nothing would change between them.

Like a coward and a fool, Lea had actually believed it.

Even when he heard someone crying in the bathroom later on that afternoon, and even when he’d known, somewhere deep in his heart, that it was Isa, right as he was about to knock on the door, Lea backed away. 

…He just didn’t want to deal with it.

Out of sight, out of mind. If he didn’t actually see it, then he could convince himself that Isa was fine. That _they_ were fine.

Only years later, when their relationship had frayed and fallen apart at the seams, after they’d both grown up with different forms and different names did Axel wonder whether that was the beginning of it all. 

The beginning of the end.

When they’d found that girl in the mansion, they’d both befriended her, but, despite popular belief, Lea wasn’t so oblivious that he couldn’t recognize how she and Isa had shared a special bond. Isa still considered Lea a friend, certainly, but it was almost as though that girl had become his everything over the course of a few short months, transforming from a stranger, to a friend, to his first thought when he woke and his last when he went to bed at night. She gave him purpose. Instilled a warmth and tenderness in him that Lea hadn’t even realized had been missing until Isa had found them all over again. She was the new, most important person in his life – and perhaps Isa had been hers. 

It was only logical, then, for Isa to have fought as hard as he did, chasing after her for five, ten, _fifteen_ years, through life, and death, and the cycle of rebirth just for the chance to find his way back to her. After all, he was a boy, and then a man, cursed with an intense and unbreakable apathy. Nothing ever interested him but a single person at a time. First Lea, and then _her_.

And now, with the both of them gone, well… Lea, himself, had been the one to predict it. Isa would end up alone, sooner or later. He just never believed he’d be complicit in isolating him.


	2. Chapter 2

She cared for Axel. Really, she did. Xion loved him just as much as she adored Roxas, but their growing closeness didn’t mean that she had blinded herself to his faults. He was a brazen and unrepentant loudmouth, even if he was an affable one. Axel could be far too blunt, which always came back to bite him during situations that would have better been addressed with subtlety and careful consideration.

Everywhere he went, Axel stomped on landmines and kicked off tripwires, stepping on everybody’s toes as though he were actively trying to provoke them. He was just being himself. He wasn’t trying to hurt anybody, but Xion knew full well that in their Organization, members were judged by actions - not good intentions. Empty creatures with no hearts should have been driven by nothing more than reason and logic: that was Saïx’s view of the world, anyway. He was always the first to dismiss any notions of her growing closeness with Axel and Roxas – though, in truth, she’d often wondered why he was so adamant about it. Rejecting and mocking their friendship as though it personally offended him. 

She’d always thought it was ridiculous, though to shield herself from his ire, Xion never spoke ill of him in public, especially when he was the one who had taken on the Organization’s secretarial role. Crossing Saïx was a workplace death sentence. Career suicide. It was a bit of an open secret that anybody whom Saïx disliked got stuck on the worst assignments, getting saddled with pointless busywork in the middle of dirty, humid jungles or frigid wastelands. 

Demyx was happy to see her come along, if only for that reason: he didn’t have to be the sole target of Saïx’s abuse and constant ridicule anymore. With Xion’s arrival, Saïx had finally found himself a new punching bag.

Burying her head in her hands, Xion stared down in dread and horror at the endless stacks of rejected reports thrown onto her desk in the library, each and every one sent back from Saïx’s office for what must have been the sixth time. She tried to put on a brave face; she didn’t want to let Saïx get to her, and yet despite herself, Xion’s eyes welled up with tears regardless. Night after night of endless paperwork after exhausting days spent in horrible places to which Saïx had banished her, specifically, only because he had something against her from the very start. 

She wanted to be brave, and yet despite herself, Xion’s courage was faltering. Overcome by exhaustion and mounting frustration at her own helplessness, she couldn’t stop the tears from falling - though she knew that Saïx would have reprimanded her for _that_ , too. Her fingers trembled, digging into her hair, as she curled into herself and wished that the polished, tile floor could open up and swallow her whole.

Only the sudden touch of Axel’s hand, placed on her shoulder, snapped her back into reality. That firm, steady weight, anchored her down, preventing her from getting overwhelmed. 

“Hey, is everything okay?” he asked, purposefully keeping his voice low. “You’re late for dinner. You’d better come now, before Xigbar and Demyx start fighting over your plate.”

“That’s okay. They can have it. I don’t think I’ll have time to join you all, tonight, anyway.” 

“What? Why not?”

“O-Oh, no reason –”

Out of shame, she’d tried to hide her papers under her arms, but Axel was every bit as persistent as he was bold. He kept on walking circles around her until he finally figured it out.

“…Hold on,” he said suddenly, grabbing at the first stapled packet on the stack. “This is Saïx’s handwriting.”

That distinction was only clear in the beginning. What started off on the first page as Number VII’s elegant, swirling script, devolved into angry scrawls of deep red ink by the fourth page, each mark, scribbled down with a vengeance. At some points, Saïx had written so furiously that he’d actually torn the paper. 

“Wait, what’s with this deadline?” Axel continued. “He wants you to rewrite this entire thing by tomorrow morning? You’d have to stay up all night to even have a chance of getting that done!”

“…I know,” Xion replied. Her entire body trembled, as she started to break apart all over again. “But I’m used to it. I always have to do this, _always_ , after every mission. Nothing I write is ever good enough for him.” She sighed, burying her face in her hands, all over again. “I just don’t get it. I do everything he says. I follow all the rules.”

“Are you serious?” he scoffed. Oh, and it warmed her heart to hear the concern in his voice – even when it morphed into outrage, all on her behalf. “Is that why you’re so pale lately? Is that why you’ve been getting sick all the time? That little… He can’t do that to you! Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Or Roxas? There’s no way we’re gonna just sit back and let this happen!” 

“That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you.” She smiled up at him through the tears, as she dared to remove her glove and stroke her hand across his cheek, brushing aside a loose lock of hair. “Because I know the two of you would go and do something silly.”

“So, standing up for each other is ‘silly,’ now?”

“I appreciate it; I really do. I know you’re only trying to help, but I don’t want the two of you getting into trouble because of me. You’re both my very best friends – so let me protect you, too, this time.”

“We won’t get in trouble,” Axel reiterated, gripping onto her shoulders so she had no choice but to look at him. “Look, I won’t involve Roxas. Okay? It’ll just be me and Saïx, and we’re just gonna talk. No violence, and no weapons… even if I could kick his sorry ass to the curb any day of the week.”

Axel always knew how to lighten the mood. 

She loved that about him. With her spirits effectively lifted, Xion hid her smile behind her hand as she laughed, light and airy. “Well, at least let me come with you. I can’t let you face him all alone.”

“That’s… probably not a good idea.”

“Why not?”

Perhaps it spoke of her naivety, but Xion had expected him to leap at that offer. After all, even if he wasn’t as big as Xaldin or as intelligent as Zexion had been, Saïx was an intimidating man in his own right. He was cunning and ambitious, which were, perhaps, the most dangerous combination of traits in a human being – and certainly, now, in a Nobody. She wouldn’t have blamed Axel if he didn’t want to confront him without support. 

“Let’s just say that I’ve known Saïx for a long time. I guess you can say we have history. If it’s just the two of us, I think he’ll at least hear me out, but I’m worried that if you’re there, he’ll just get all pissed off and self-righteous and kick us out.”

She tilted her head, looking up at Axel’s face and trying to discern just what he wasn’t telling her. According to their numerical scheme, it was logical for Axel and Saïx to have joined the Organization shortly after one another, but Xion didn’t have an estimate of just how long ago that was, or how two independent, intelligent Nobodies just happened to meet. She had so many questions. Under what circumstances had they joined? Was their relationship always so hostile? 

“Are you sure?” she asked, instead. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you and Saïx hanging out or even just talking to each other, like what we’re doing, now. Just because you know someone for a long time doesn’t mean that they’ll feel like they owe you any favors.”

Xion hoped that didn’t sound too mean. She only wanted to temper Axel’s expectations.

“We’re not just acquaintances. Saïx is…” He gnawed at his lower lip, as though he were just dying to say something – but in the end, perhaps out of respect for whatever relationship that he held with Saïx, he held his tongue. “Look, I know it doesn’t seem like we’re friends… and maybe we’re not. But I still believe that Saïx would go out of his way to help me out, if I needed him. He always has, in the past.”

Clearly, considering how vague he was being, Axel didn’t want to talk about it – and Xion didn’t intend to pry.

“Alright. I trust you. Just be careful, okay?”

“Thanks, but I won’t have to be. Saïx would rather cut off his hand than ever raise it against me.”

_________________________________________

Friends didn’t spy on each other: that was a basic concept that even children understood and accepted as fact, and yet there she was, trailing after Axel against his wishes. Guilt flooded through her, though it couldn’t overwhelm her fierce determination to protect her friend against all odds. It wasn’t as though she doubted Axel’s capabilities during combat so much as she just didn’t have faith in his diplomacy. When push came to shove, she didn’t believe that he could negotiate with Saïx without losing his temper and getting physical. Her self-assigned mission that evening was only to watch them and to step in as a neutral mediator to defuse any growing hostilities, if needed. 

When Axel arrived at Saïx’s quarters, without even knocking, he shoved the door open, slamming it against the wall, before storming in without the slightest ceremony. Stunned by his aggression, Xion froze like a statue, already fearing the worst. 

“I need to talk to you.” Even from out in the hallway, Axel’s voice boomed like thunder. He sounded just like a father, all caring concern and protective anger on her behalf. She hadn’t expected that. Her mind racing, she knelt down in shadow, peering inside of Saïx’s room through the slightly opened doorway. His personal living space was a little bit larger than everybody else’s. He had a proper office and living space which must have been well-loved, considering how infrequently he visited the kitchen and the communal lounge. 

She’d always thought his living space would match his personality, empty and cold, and yet, what Xion saw of his office through the little crack in the doorway was almost… homey. Meteorites and little planetary models sat on meticulously dusted shelves, right beside a collection of classic novels. It was then when Xion realized that, subconsciously, she’d half-expected Saïx to live in an empty room, where all he did was brood and scowl. She never expected him to look as human as he did, resting his ankle on his knee as he slowly swiveled in his chair - just a barely perceptible, gentle weave from side to side. He regarded Axel not with the irritation and hostility that she’d anticipated, but, instead, with patience. 

“I would have bid you come inside, if you hadn’t already taken the liberty,” he scolded. Though he was clearly annoyed by Axel’s unannounced arrival, Saïx unlocked his desk drawer and dug out the mission schedule, regardless. It baffled her that he’d even be willing to change anything, when it was an unspoken rule that Saïx’s plans were set in stone. Once that schedule was written, there were no trading missions and no unexcused absences – and yet there he was, pen to paper, ready to cross out whatever it was that Axel requested of him. “Well?” he asked, “What is it that you want, now? I’ve allowed you to take three days off in a row, already.” 

“Oh, three days off. So generous.”

“It was, considering the fact that you didn’t spend a moment of that time with me. We haven’t done much in the way of solving our personal mystery, lately,” Saïx reprimanded with a deepening scowl, as he slammed his journal shut. Though Xion didn’t understand just what he was talking about, it was clearly something important. That tone in his voice… it almost sounded despondent, as though he felt betrayed. “The longer we wait, the more likely it is that we will soon have a cold case on our hands. I know that you’re desperate for a break in this fruitless investigation - and that your new allies are more than eager to support your delinquency and absenteeism - but you should remember why it is that we came here.”

“Oh, I already got it memorized; it’s you I’m worried about. Why _did_ we come here, Isa?” Axel snapped back. “Was it to look for a friend of ours? Or was it so that you could lord around this castle and stomp on everybody that you think is beneath you? You know, when I helped you rise to the top, I didn’t think you’d be pulling shit like this.”

“What are you talking about? Have I offended you in some manner?” Saïx – or did Axel call him _Isa_ – threw his journal down onto his desk and quickly stood, facing Axel at eye level, man to man. “You forget that I have acquiesced to nearly every single one of your asinine demands since we arrived in this castle.”

“We’re not talking about me. The world doesn’t revolve around the two of us.” The sheer force of Axel’s disappointed glare turned Xion’s bones to jelly, and yet Saïx didn’t seem to be affected in the slightest. He grounded his stance and straightened his back, giving himself another centimeter of height, as though that actually mattered. Axel would always be bigger than him. “I’m talking about Xion. Hell, I’m talking about Roxas - and even Demyx. Forcing them to do all your grunt work, giving them the cold shoulder, singling them out – you act like you’re a slave driver. I never thought you’d actually sink so low that you’d be picking on a bunch of kids, of all people.”

“Are we honestly having this conversation? All of this outrage, over a pair of children…” The disgust was practically dripping off of his tongue. “I never believed that you would be so foolish as to ally yourself with them instead of the man who has stood at your side for almost thirty years.”

“Oh, that’s funny! I don’t remember you being there. The Isa I know could be stick-in-the-mud, stubborn little snot, sure – but he was kind, and funny, and loyal. He was with me every step of the way. I could trust him. He was a good person, but _you_ are nothing like him! He wouldn’t do things like force people to work themselves sick – like forcing _kids_ to do that. Where are you even sending Xion anyways?” 

Because Saïx could respond, Axel leapt for his desk, grabbing at his journal. They fought over it like children, tugging at that little black notebook and clawing at each other. It was just… sad, and visceral, and desperate in a way that Xion couldn’t truly understand. She didn’t know anything about their history together, but she sensed, somehow, that this was a new and irreversible low for them both. 

Finally, Axel emerged victorious, flipping through the pages until he found the current week’s schedule. Knowing that he’d lost, Saïx didn’t bother to protest. He only stood there, unmoving, as Axel’s expression shifted from curiosity, to shock, to horror… and then, finally, to full blown anger. His entire body trembled with rage, as though his sparks could catch and burst into flame at any moment. 

“What is this?” Axel asked, slowly stalking closer, jabbing his finger against the pages of Saïx’s notebook. “These worlds, they’re… they’re barren. You _know_ they’re barren; we confirmed that three years ago! There’s not even heartless in those places. There’s _nothing_. What are you trying to gain by sending Xion out to those worlds? Are you… trying to get rid of her? Why the hell would you -”

“You forced my hand. I didn’t know what else to do.” After all those long months of working under him, Xion had been conditioned to cower during the rare moments when Saïx raised his voice, knowing that, at best, it meant a lecture – and at worst, corporal punishments or threats against Roxas. “You are throwing your life away on petty, meaningless children’s games. You speak of friendships, Lea, but what about _our_ friend? …What about me?” 

“Man, _forget_ you!” Axel’s voice echoed. “What do you think you’re doing to Xion? Working her to the bone - you don’t have any right!” 

“That _thing_ is a distraction that you would be better off without. It is an abomination, a lifeless, empty puppet, and I cannot begin to fathom why Lord Xemnas would ever allow such filth to defile this castle. Under his orders, I am not permitted to dispose of it – but I will get that trash out of this castle one way or another. Do you understand? Or are you earnestly telling me that you would rather associate with a child and a _monster_ than -”

“ _You’re_ the monster!” 

Even mid-argument, Saïx never saw it coming. Axel’s fist collided against his jaw with a sickening crack, and all at once, in a blur of black, and blue, and crimson, Axel pinned him down onto the marble floor and let the punches fly. 

“You son of a bitch… You sick son of a bitch! She’s just a kid! She’s a person! Her name is Xion – and she is twice the friend to me than you’ve ever been! And what - so just because you’re all alone, now I have to be that way, too? Are you gonna pick off my friends one after the other, until there’s no one left but you? Well, you know what? I’d never choose to waste another second of my life with you, even if you were the last person left alive in this castle. You are so _fucking_ selfish!” 

Horrified, finally, her racing mind caught up with her body, and Xion flew into action, bursting into the room and latching onto Axel’s arm, tugging at him desperately –

“Axel, stop!” she pleaded. “You promised me that nobody would get hurt!” 

“Don’t worry; I’ll make it quick.” Snarling, Axel pulled his hand back to summon his chakrams, but when Saïx’s outraged, incredulous little scowl twisted into an expression of legitimate fear… even Axel knew he’d gone too far. The fight drained right out of him, seeping out of his pores and leeching from his bones. As Axel slowly lost the strength to stand on his own, Xion helped to support him, letting him lean against her shoulder. “Damn it, Isa… I’d tell you to do the right thing and apologize, but you’d rather let me knock out every last one of your teeth before you’d ever say that you were sorry for anything… wouldn’t you?”

The minutes ticked by in heavy silence, and it became clear that Saïx wouldn’t even give them the closure of getting an answer. Even so, much to Xion’s relief, Axel slowly released his death grip on Saïx’s collar, regardless.

“You know what you are?” Axel asked, as he took a step back, distancing himself. “You’re empty. You know you’ll never be happy, but you’re not good enough to want the best for other people. So, all you can hope for is for everyone else to be as cold, and lonely, and miserable as you are. Right? …Honestly, I feel sorry for you.” She thought that was the end of it, but, shaking his head, Axel continued, sounding so despondent it was almost as if he was losing faith in the world, itself. “No, on second thought, I guess I’m just sorry in general. Maybe this is my fault, too, somehow. Maybe I let you down one too many times. All I know is that I won’t be asking for special scheduling any more. I don’t want to look for her, I don’t want to go to Castle Oblivion anymore, and, more than anything, I don’t want to fight with you. I really mean that. I’m sorry, but just… if you don’t think you can handle that, just leave me and my friends alone. Okay? Can you do that for me, Isa?”

“…Don’t call me that.” 

Saïx must have fractured a rib. Xion could hear the crackling, physical strain with every breath he took, and yet when Axel, in good faith, offered him his hand, Saïx knocked it away. All she could do was watch in silence as he struggled to stand. 

There was an unspoken understanding between Xion and Axel at that moment: Axel had effectively abandoned his oldest friend. Even if Saïx didn’t want their help, the least that they could do, in honor of the relationship they had shared, was to make sure that he was okay before they left. 

Without even looking their way, Saïx slowly limped over towards the mini-bar and poured himself a glass of… Xion didn’t know what it was. Something strong, something clearly expensive, that she could smell even from the other side of the room. He downed the first drink with a pained grimace – the alcohol must have burned against his busted lip. 

Unexpectedly, she heard a quiet, gentle chuckle coming from the man beside her. It was soft and warm, if not equally mournful.

“Man, is that brandy? …I can’t believe you like that stuff.” Axel sure didn’t. He still drank soft drinks and orange juice. “Don’t you think it tastes like rubbing alcohol?” No response. And yet, that didn’t deter Axel from rambling on. “Remember? Way back in the day, you couldn’t even handle a beer, and now you’re drinking –”

“Get out.”

Saïx’s voice barely rose above a whisper, and yet the sorrow, the bitter sting of defeat and resignation struck her like a bullet in the back. Though Axel didn’t have a heart, from the way he clung to her, Xion could swear she’d heard it breaking, regardless. 

“We should leave him alone,” she insisted, as she slowly led a clearly reluctant Axel back towards the door. Right as they were about to reach their goal, Axel turned back. Xion thought, at that moment, that he was going to reach out to Saïx – to offer to let him come along with them to dinner – but Axel always was a brazen and unrepentant loudmouth, who could be far too blunt when the situation called for care and subtlety. 

“About Xion’s schedule…”

The only sound reverberating through that room were the gentle, inner machinations of Saïx’s antique, grandfather clock. Trapped in suffocating silence, Axel’s courage evaporated, and any lingering concerns he may have had withered away on the tip of his tongue. 

Saïx took a deep, shuddering breath and held it for ages – and he poured himself a second drink.

“I’ll take care of it.”

With a gentle nod that Saïx didn’t see, Axel finally followed Xion out the door. They walked back to the library in silence, knowing, at least, that their mission for the evening had been accomplished – strengthening their own friendship at the cost of destroying Axel’s bond with Saïx.

And yet it had been Saïx who had told her that Nobodies were hopeless, miserable creatures, condemned to walk the earth without a single semblance of human emotion. But as Xion stared back at his door, knowing she was leading Axel farther and farther away from him, she couldn’t help but wonder whether those words were actually true – and, more importantly, whether Saïx believed it for himself. 

…Or whether an empty man with nothing left but loss and betrayal, had convinced himself that it was better for him to feel nothing at all.


	3. Chapter 3

To foster the illusion of friendship, the venerable Lord Superior had implemented an open-door policy for their dear Organization. Every member, from the mighty Number II, all the way down to the unofficial, lowly Number XIV, whom Saïx still refused to acknowledge, was actively encouraged to bring any concerns or recommendations to the patriarch of their dysfunctional little family. They could talk to him about anything. Trust him with anything. At the very least, that was how the policy was recorded on paper - though even children like Roxas weren’t foolish enough to believe that it existed for anything more than the sake of good appearances. If anyone actually agreed to Xemnas’s offer of counselling or companionship, Saïx was certain that they would be met with barely constrained annoyance at best, and career-damning consequences at worst. There was nothing that physically prevented the rank and file from stepping into Xemnas’s chambers, certainly, yet a general sense of distrust and discomfort, combined with an almost palpable fear of his authority, repelled any potential visitors better than walls and barbed wire ever could. 

Nobody felt close enough to Xemnas to even test the legitimacy of his offer, much less to truly confide in him about anything more personal than the daily events of the Organization. 

One would have needed to be truly desperate – or simply stupid – to turn to the Superior for company. 

That night, however, Saïx was the perfect combination of both. Brandy clouded his judgement, fueling the pitiful sense of rejection and inadequacy that whittled away at his psyche. Unable to find even a moment’s respite from the brewing storm of intolerable humiliation and utter ruin, Saïx tossed and turned in bed until he gave up on the very notion sleep entirely. Surrendering himself to restless hours of staring up at the ceiling, and the walls, and the window, alone in his bedroom, he allowed his thoughts to fester and consume him. 

What was he going to do from then on?

…What was he going to do without Axel?

The only reason he’d been able to pursue a tireless, ten-year search for a missing friend was because he wasn’t forced to bear the burden of her absence alone. With Axel by his side, he had the fortitude to accomplish anything. 

But left alone, Saïx was just -

He couldn’t tolerate the inaction any longer. Throwing off his blankets, he clutched at his broken ribs – the potions hadn’t helped in the slightest - and stumbled out of his bedroom. Paperwork and empty bottles littered his cluttered office. He didn’t bother to clean up after the hurricane. 

With a single-minded goal, he trudged up spiraling staircases, higher and higher, towards Xemnas’s chambers. Always a fan of the melodramatic, the Lord Superior arranged for his own rooms to be properly and symbolically located far above everyone else’s. Perched on his balcony, he could look down upon rest of them. Maggots, writhing beneath his heel. 

Despite the man’s inflated ego, the door to Xemnas’s chambers was actually opened just as promised, serving as a silent invitation for Saïx to set foot through the Gates of Hell. 

His pulse quickened. 

Though Saïx knew every corner of that castle like the back of his hand, Xemnas’s chambers were foreign grounds, filled with unknown dangers. Just as he’d feared, the moment he’d stepped through the threshold, the door slammed shut, locking behind him. Through some grace of the heavens, Saïx overcame the urge to turn around and tug helplessly at the door like a child. Though he could always open a portal and simply warp away, he couldn’t do so without branding himself as a coward and a fool. Instead, to spare his own dignity, he squared his shoulders and strode purposefully into the room with feigned confidence. Every agonizing breath twisted his broken ribs, grinding bone against cartilage. His world spun in a sickening combination of pain and nausea, and yet still, Saïx held himself together. 

If there was anything he’d learned over the years, it was how to suffer in dignity and silence.

After all, he wasn’t like Xion and Roxas; he was a grown man - and men didn’t have the luxury of running away from home, and throwing fits in public, and crying, and screaming, and letting themselves shatter into a thousand little pieces. It just wasn’t permitted.

What choice was there for him but to endure?

And yet, when Xemnas greeted him with a most convincing show of concern, it took everything that Saïx had to stand tall and present himself as a perfect, porcelain statue, composed and expressionless. He could not allow reason to be overwhelmed by false emotion that was, in truth, nothing more than the lingering echoes of his past existence.

“Ah, Seven,” a deep, rumbling baritone called from the other side of the lounge. “A most welcome presence. Come. Sit.”

It was a trap, somehow. Saïx was utterly convinced of that, if nothing else. 

Even when he sat across from Xemnas, looking so casual on his leather sofa, he was certain that at any moment, he would blink and find a blade pointed straight at his throat. He anticipated it, waited for it, and yet, as time passed them by, the threat of violence never came. 

Xemnas only looked back at him, perfectly taciturn. He couldn’t read anything in those glossy, golden eyes - though he was certain that his own revealed far more than enough for Xemnas to poke and prod at his weaknesses until he fell apart at the seams. 

“I had always suspected that you would be the first, and the last, to seek my presence within these chambers.” 

“’The last?’” Saïx echoed. “A strange choice of words. Am I to serve as a warning to the others, in some shape or form, as punishment for daring to disturb your solitude?” 

He’d heard the stories: worlds where criminals were strung up by their necks - their bodies, left to rot as gruesome deterrents to social deviancy. Instead of taking offense to the implication, however, Xemnas only… _laughed_. It was a warm and soothing sound, dripping with hollow amiability.

“I intended nothing quite so sordid. All that I had meant to convey through those words is that I cannot imagine a single one of your peers following in your footsteps: summoning the courage to come to me alone. Though by all means, spread false rumors. Speak freely of the intolerable cruelties which I will inflicted upon you this evening. Drive our allies from my door… for while I am pleased to grant you shelter from the storm, Seven, I cannot say, with earnest, that I am eager to extend that courtesy to the others.”

Though the confession came on rather suddenly, Saïx wasn’t entirely surprised by its nature. Xemnas didn’t seem the type to appreciate Xigbar’s brand of humor nor Demyx’s pointless gossip, speaking only for the sake of filling the silence. Not as though Saïx appreciated the “compliment.” Being singled out by Xemnas, for better or worse, was a death sentence was no matter how he cared to look at it. 

“I came here only to request a leave of absence,” he replied, ignoring his growing sense of unease. “What leads you to believe that I need you to shelter me from anything?” 

In response to his inquiry, Xemnas only smiled, tilting his head as he ran his thumb over his lower lip. 

“Careful, now,” he warned, like a father, speaking down to his child. “…I see a crack in your armor.”

Curious, he mirrored Xemnas’s movements and _shivered_. The wound that he’d sustained from his ridiculous, one-sided fist fight with Axel had actually reopened. He’d done his best to hide the damage through healing tonics and even cosmetics, but when he pulled his hand away from his lip, Saïx found the tips of his fingers stained a bright and startling crimson. His wounds spoke louder than words, unraveling his shame and his misery, clear for all to see. 

“Pray tell, who was the one that knocked you from your pedestal?” Frozen in horror, he didn’t even notice that Xemnas had risen, leaning over the table with a little, black handkerchief in hand. “And perhaps more importantly… will he soon return to pick up the pieces?”

 _He knew_. 

He’d been so careful. He was certain that Axel hadn’t said a thing, not about their friendship, their plans, and certainly not about their disagreements, and yet somehow, Xemnas seemed to know everything. …Was it Xion who told him? Roxas? Had word spread throughout the entire Organization by then? 

It was completely illogical, and yet, Saïx couldn’t stop his thoughts from spiraling downwards.

The Superior stood above him with the grace and fluidity of a king. Though Saïx was not a small man, Xemnas towered over him, both in terms of physical stature and in mental fortitude. Sitting beside a veritable giant, Saïx felt so insignificant. 

He swallowed hard around the growing lump in his throat.

“I lost a fight,” he mumbled, making up excuses. “It only indicates that I need to dedicate more time towards combat practice and quite a bit less on numbers and ledgers.” 

“Ah, but that was no ordinary quarrel, now was it?” Xemnas leaned in closer – so close that the soft tips of his bangs brushed up against Saïx’s cheek. “Your wounds may heal, but you hide the pain poorly. …I smell liquor on your breath, Seven.”

“What of it?” 

Every scrap of Saïx’s pride was screaming at him to push Xemnas away, and yet still, he resisted. Losing control would be the death of him. He knew that he was pushing boundaries, as it was; he hadn’t intended to sound so defensive.

But in response to his subtle display of defiance, Xemnas only smiled.

“…Nothing.” Without warning, the Superior took his hand in an iron grip, latching on tighter than a vice. As composed as ever, and ignoring his companion’s panic, Xemnas pried Saïx’s fingers open without a single word, just to gently lay that little handkerchief into his palm. Holding on tight, he closed Saïx’s fingers over the cloth and stroked his thumb over his knuckles until he just stopped struggling. The touch lingered for what felt like ages – until, just as suddenly as he had approached him, Xemnas let go, retreating back to his sofa. “You are free to do as you please. I only find it rather lamentable that you felt the need to drink alone. Misery, at the very least, deserves company.” 

“You were the one who told me that my heart was lost to the darkness. Any ‘misery’ that I may experience, now, is as artificial as our replicas.”

He would be better off letting go. If his heart and his soul were artificial, then so, too, was his sorrow. The more Saïx thought of it, the more he could find comfort in the ideal. 

…But Xemnas wouldn’t even let him have that one, little victory. 

“Perhaps. And yet, though we have no hearts, our empty bodies are naturally drawn to the memory of having possessed them. We fixate ourselves on antiquated loyalties, unresolved regrets, and earthly desires. If you do not take caution, you, too may lose yourself to the fruitless endeavor of chasing after the ghosts of your previous existence.”

“Is that not why we seek Kingdom Hearts?” Saïx retorted, unwilling to accept such a convenient answer. “To return to our past lives?”

“We seek Kingdom Hearts to make ourselves whole. Whether you imagine the reunification of body and spirit as a return to the past or as a new beginning is entirely up to you. Though it is my sincerest hope that you will not be so quick to discard away your experiences as a Nobody.” 

“Then I fear you’re going to be disappointed. There are no good memories of this castle that I am particularly intent on keeping.”

“I see.” Xemnas didn’t even bother to feign sadness. He only tilted his head, observing him with a curious expression, as Saïx pressed his handkerchief against his bloody lip. “…Then perhaps it is time that we make them.” 

Without warning, he stood, though by that point, Saïx was so mentally and physically exhausted that he didn’t bother to ask where he was going. He didn’t want to argue, anymore. 

He’d had enough of torture and mind games. Admitting defeat at last, he closed his eyes and let his weakness show through in the gentle curve of his back and through weary, trembling little breaths. Though some miracle, Xemnas took pity on him, dimming the lights just enough to grant him a calm moment’s respite. Though the minutes ticked onward, Saïx had long since stopped keeping track of time. Xemnas would oust him from the room eventually, when his depressing little display of self-pity grew more tiresome than entertaining.

And then? 

Oh, Saïx would have no other option but wait for the fall. To drag himself back to his office and spend the rest of the night in preparation for the new social hierarchy. He would accept Xion’s report whenever the puppet deigned to submit it, _if_ it ever deigned to submit it - and he wouldn’t say a thing about just why he was being so lenient. He would meet Axel in the hallway and avoid making eye contact. They wouldn’t look at each other, they wouldn’t speak… and everything would be fine. After all, it wasn’t as though they were friends. They didn’t know each other, and that didn’t bother him, since from the very beginning, Saïx didn’t give a damn about anything other than his own advancement.

That was the illusion he’d always maintained – and now it was going to be his reality. If he prepared himself well enough, perhaps he could survive the transition with minimal damage.

The soothing sound of ice clinking gently against cool glass pulled him out of his reverie, dragging him from the edge of unconsciousness all the way back to the waking world. When Saïx looked up, Xemnas was standing above him with two chilled glasses of whiskey in hand. 

He extended one towards him with a smile so natural that Saïx could have mistaken it for the genuine article.

“As I said before: no man should ever be forced to drink alone.” 

Saïx had always liked to classify himself as a cynic and a realist. Both humans and Nobodies were driven entirely by their own, selfish desires: whether for companionship or power. And yet Xemnas’s kindness towards him, at that moment, was so convincing that for the first time in years, Saïx was able to put aside all thoughts of past and future, in order to live in the moment and focus on… _now_. 

All the worlds in their endless splendor, sprawling galaxies and star clusters, boiled down, at that snapshot in time, to just the two of them.

Stunned, he took the glass – his fingers, numb against the cold. 

“I may not be the one you were waiting for, but I hope to have pieced you back together again, regardless.”

Maybe the Superior would have scolded him for it – he was supposed to be moving on, after all. But sitting on that sofa next to Xemnas, sipping at a vibrant whiskey that bloomed into distinctive curls of deep smoke and juniper, reminded him of something as innocent and pure as sharing cheap, gas station beer with someone who had meant the world to him.


	4. Chapter 4

He couldn’t avoid Saïx forever.

Even a lackadaisical, chronic procrastinator like Axel knew that he had to man up and face the music eventually. After an excruciating two weeks of running, it was starting to grow awkward, begging a reluctant Xion and an oblivious Roxas to go to Saïx’s office and fetch mission assignments on his behalf, just so that he could postpone the inevitable, awkward confrontation with his former best friend for yet another evening. When he could practically feel the resentment dripping off of Saïx like poison, the very idea of agreeing to a simple, ten-minute meeting felt more like condemning himself to a lifelong prison sentence, instead. Every passing glance in the hallway dragged on for decades. Those cold, golden eyes, piercing through the back of his skull shaved years off his lifespan through the sheer force of their hatred. If looks could kill, Axel would have dropped dead a thousand times over. Brushing against Saïx’s shoulder in the kitchen and bursting into flame. Accidentally sitting in his chair, only to freeze to death from the inside out, that steely Medusa’s gaze, petrifying his bones to rock and crystal. 

It was one of the simple facts of life: humiliating Saïx didn’t go without its consequences. A veritable force of vengeance, he was going to follow through on his grudges sooner or later. He always did.

Years ago, Isa was the infamous local teenager who had hidden a live centipede in someone’s sandwich only because they used to bully him in grade school. That kid had grown up and apologized a thousand times over, but “I’m sorrys” were just never good enough for him. Isa – and now Saïx – wanted more. He wanted pain, humiliation, and gut-wrenching regret. He was exactly the type of man who would resolve his problems in his own way, release his grudges on his own time, and to hell with anyone who ever said otherwise.

Back then, his little acts of petty vengeance, though traumatizing in their own right, were relatively harmless in the long run. But now that he’d climbed to a position of nearly absolute power, Saïx’s festering resentments presented as intense social hazing and workplace favoritism. It must have been a joke of the gods. Someone as strict and conservative as Saïx somehow transformed into a creative mastermind then moment cruel and unusual punishment became a topic of discussion. He would find a way to make Axel regret ever crossing him.

Oh, he was certain of that. …But in a way, perhaps it was all for the best. Better him than Xion, Axel considered. 

Besides, it wasn’t as though he couldn’t take it. Saïx’s bitterness was old news. He could ignore it all with an oblivious smile, tuning out his biting comments and trudging through the heavy workload without a single regret in the world. After all, he knew, from experience, that it could have been worse; Saïx’s hatred was never as intolerably heavy as his sorrow.

It still made his stomach churn: that vivid memory of standing in front of the boy’s bathroom, frozen in horror as Isa’s muffled sobs seeped through the cracks in the door. Only after he’d grown older did Axel truly understand that what haunted him wasn’t the fact that he’d hurt Isa or that he’d let him down for the umpteenth time. What ate away at his conscience was the humiliating fact that he’d been too afraid and too damn selfish to do a thing about it, afterwards. 

What Axel hated was his own cowardice.

He would have rather felt the full weight of that claymore crashing down upon him, tearing through his flesh and splintering his bones, rather than endure, as adults, a repeat of that childhood nightmare. He didn’t think that he could take another crushing emotional failure. 

So, as Axel took a deep breath and pushed open the door to Saïx’s office, he tried to remind himself that Isa had changed. He wasn’t the crying type anymore; he wasn’t the shy, sensitive little boy that had clung to his sleeve and cowered when all that stood between him and “the big kids” was Lea. 

No, now Saïx was the strong one. Xemnas’s illustrious second-in-command. 

Everyone was a stepping stone, and he was moving up.

“Hey, it’s me,” Axel greeted, feigning confidence just to have the courage to speak. It wasn’t particularly convincing. Suffocated by shame and crippled by embarrassment, he couldn’t bear to lift his gaze from the floor. “About what happened earlier… Let’s just forget about it, okay? Maybe I went too far, and I’m sorry for that. Let’s just move on and be professional about this.”

An unexpected yet familiar voice echoed, all lilting, carefree tones. “Sure, no worries. So, you stole some of my bacon at breakfast. I was a little peeved, yeah, but it’s not that big of a deal.” 

His eyes darted up –

“…Xigbar?”

“The one and only. Expecting someone else, were you?”

“Yeah,” Axel snapped back, incredulous. “Maybe the guy whose number is carved on that door. Last time I checked, this was Saïx’s office; what are you doing here?”

“What does it look like? I’m working!” In contrast to his claims, the garbage can was filled with drawings and empty candy wrappers instead of scrapped reports. Kicking his feet up, Xigbar extended his foot, tapping at Saïx’s perpetual motion desk model, sending the rings spinning. “You didn’t get the memo? Our little Blueberry got sent out to do some field work for once in his life. Too bad I got stuck with all the scheduling while he’s gone.”

Axel shut the door and drew closer, unable to resist the temptation of sifting through the papers on Saïx’s desk. Maps and floor diagrams, sticky note reminders – a list to tasks to complete before… what? An extended absence? According to one checklist, Saïx had packed twelve pairs of socks. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting to return to civilization anytime soon. Even worse was the message placed on his calendar: Axel peeled off of the paper and squinted, just barely able to decipher Saïx’s handwriting.

Ridiculous. 

What kind of man in their day and age still wrote in cursive? The letters were so slanted; everything looked the same. He wouldn’t have ever figured it out if not for the little drawing of his claymore. 

…It was a list of ingredients that he needed to gather for weapon modifications. Wherever he was, Saïx was expecting a fight.

“Wait -” Axel prompted, glancing up from the note. “He was doing maintenance on his claymore. Is he out on a mission somewhere?”

Laughter and finger guns – shot right through the heart. “Bingo. First one, too, since he took this cushy office job. It’s been so long, I wonder if he can even lift that oversized paddle anymore.”

“No, Saïx doesn’t go on missions,” Axel muttered, as though he were stating a simple fact: the night sky was black and endless, and Saïx was a pencil pusher who never got his hands dirty. Everybody knew it, and yet in response to that mystery, Xigbar only shrugged.

“He does now.”

“Well… What happened? Did he get demoted or something? Did Xemnas find out about…” 

With his curiosity piqued by Axel’s panic, Xigbar raised an eyebrow. A wide, arrogant smile tugged at the corners of his lips, baring his teeth. “About what? I know Saïx has his own agenda, whatever it is. You think he finally slipped up? He had to, one of these days.”

“There _is_ no agenda. He’s as loyal as it gets; I’m sure it’s nothing,” Axel corrected, wishing he could take back everything he’d said. At the very least, he could draw attention away from Saïx’s true motives. “Can you tell me if he’s okay, at the very least? Is he hurt?”

“What’s got you all worked up?” Xigbar asked with a mocking, casual laugh. “So maybe Blueberry lost his job. Maybe it hurt his feelings, and he’s out guzzling a pint and crying over a meatloaf special in a seedy bar somewhere. Here I thought you’d be the one throwing the party, now that he’s gone. …I know you don’t like how he picks on Poppet.” 

“I wanted him to lighten up! I never thought he’d be –” 

“What – _rejected_? Turned out in the cold?”

Axel shuddered. He’d been the first one to abandon him; what right did he have to be so surprised that Xemnas would do the same? Maybe he’d discovered Saïx’s wounds, somehow, or maybe Xion had told Roxas about their argument, and word had spread throughout the rest of the Organization.

A sinking feeling welled up in the pit of his stomach. 

A potential demotion and subsequent blow to Saïx’s ego weren’t his true concerns; it was, instead, his _safety_. In Axel’s opinion, that desk job had been his saving grace. By all means, Saïx was a capable and cunning tactician, but in a fight, he was just… slow. Sure, that cumbersome claymore weighed a ton and would have hurt like hell if it fell on somebody, but the point remained that in order to do any damage, Saïx would have actually needed to hit his targets. 

Axel never thought highly of his friend’s combat capabilities, even if some of the others whispered of hidden talents. Gossip flowed through the grapevine in their humble castle. Though Axel had always considered Saïx as one of the weakest members of their Organization, according to Luxord, Demyx, and even Xaldin, who had been pitted against him in combat simulations, when Saïx lost his temper, their little family accountant transformed into a veritable terror on the battlefield. 

They spoke highly of him, but Axel didn’t buy it. Isa was a thinker – not a fighter. He was weak. He needed help to stand on his own. Outnumbered and out of practice, it wasn’t unrealistic that Saïx could fall to a hoard of Heartless.

In the face of Axel’s growing dread, Xigbar only rolled his single eye. 

“Oh, come on. He’ll be fine. Saïx is second-in-command for a good reason. I’m sure he knows what he’s doing.” He sighed, slumping his shoulders and spinning around in Saïx’s chair when Axel didn’t show any evidence of relaxing in the slightest. “Look, I was just teasing about that demotion. Okay? So you can lighten up. He and the boss are still on good terms. As much as I’d like to see Saïx knee deep in the mud, pulling his own weight, for once, I know he’ll be riding Xemnas’s coattails all the way home.”

What was that about Xemnas? 

“Wasn’t the Superior the one who made him go on this mission in the first place?” 

“Well, yeah, but it’s not like he was banished to no man’s land; he’s on a ‘special assignment’ with the boss, himself. Can you believe that? The bigwigs pulled a Roxas and partnered up… not like they’ll be going to the same places as him. You really think Xemnas and Saïx are travelling together, just to wade around in swaps and freeze their asses off in the mountains somewhere? They’re not gonna kill a single Heartless. Nah, they’re probably sitting on the beach and sipping piña coladas out of coconuts. Maybe they’ll talk about ‘synergy’ or whatever between hula dances. I don’t actually know.”

“You didn’t _ask_?” 

“Why would I? Whether the bigwigs are fighting for their lives, or whether they’re booking a seaside hotel and shagging in the host tub, it doesn’t really change my day to day, one way or another.”

“I thought you were done joking…” Axel mumbled. Though he was usually the first to make light of a tense situation, he was, admittedly, hesitant to make jokes at Saïx’s expense. Especially when those jokes involved any personal relationships he may have had – or the more likely reality that he’d never formed another friendship since he’d lost Axel.

“Who says I’m joking, this time?” Xigbar retorted with a quick huff. “Those two have some serious chemistry! Always did. I made a bet with Luxord that the Superior and old Number VII would start hooking up sooner or later - and now it looks like it’s time to cash in. The first mission Xemnas ever goes on, and he just _has_ to take Saïx. Cut me right off when I offered to travel with him, instead. Hell, in the end, Xemnas wouldn’t even tell me where they were going. Coincidence? I don’t think so.”

“It’s… probably nothing.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Xigbar backtracked with a shrug, completely casual, even when he likely knew that Axel was hanging on his words – each and every one, cutting into him like razors. “Or _maybe not_ … Either way, they’ll be back by Monday. You can ask Saïx all about his private time with the boss, then. You know, if he ever feels like telling you.”

Of course he wouldn’t. 

They had nothing to talk about. If Saïx even had a confidant nowadays, it certainly wasn’t Axel; he had nobody and nothing. 

But it occurred to Axel, then, like ivy creeping through the walls: what if Xigbar was right, and Saïx had a new companion, after all? …What if that companion was Xemnas, swooping in to fill the void that Axel and their lost, forgotten friend had left behind? He could almost imagine it, the thoughts, swirling to take form in full light and color: the Lord Superior, sitting beside Saïx on a perch overlooking an endless stretch of ocean. Their bare feet dug through golden sands, and they would talk about – what was it? Synergy, whatever that meant? 

No, more likely, they would gossip. Saïx, pouring his heart out about how everyone walked out of his life, leaving bloody daggers in his back as parting gifts on their way out the door. If Xemnas looked at him, then, and told him that he’d never leave… would Saïx be desperate enough to believe it? 

Axel didn’t know why that notion bothered him so terribly. By all means, he should have been happy that maybe, just maybe, Saïx wouldn’t end up all alone, after all. But there was something about the thought of a casual friendship with Xemnas that grated on him. They were so similar; the thought that they would pair together was just so… natural. 

At that moment, with the full weight of his realization crashing down upon him, the only person that Axel hated more than Xemnas was himself. After all, he didn’t want Saïx –Axel just couldn’t tolerate the fact that anyone else could ever want him, either. How childish, how wretched he must have been, that he would have rather seen his best friend alone and miserable than perfectly happy with somebody else. 

Maybe somebody that suited him far better than Axel ever had.

_________________________________________

Prepared for the worst, he’d packed twelve pairs of wool socks into his briefcase. 

They would serve him well in any environment: bubbling, muddy swamplands, humid jungles swarming with insects, frigid wastelands. Wherever Xemnas planned on taking him, Saïx was prepared to accept his suffering in stride. His Superior was a demanding taskmaster: precisely the type of man with lofty expectations – and one who never hid his disappointment when his subordinates failed to meet them. Though he’d been shown a momentary kindness in Xemnas’s chambers over two weeks ago, and though they’d made small talk and smiled at each other ever since, Saïx wasn’t naïve enough to consider himself forgiven. When pitted against one of the weakest members of their Organization, after all, he couldn’t ever muster the willpower to summon his weapon. He’d just lied there… and took it. Xemnas was going to make his life difficult, somehow – and so Saïx had packed twelve pairs of wool socks in preparation for just that. 

Twelve pairs of socks… which now were tucked away and forgotten in the bottom drawer of a heated, fully furnished penthouse suite.

“I have something for you, Seven.” Looking over his shoulder, Saïx couldn’t believe that he was met with Xemnas’s smiling face and a gently proffered ice cream bar instead of a cloud of ravenous jungle mosquitos, ready to suck him dry. “This is a local specialty. Ice cream flavored with sea salt.” 

Sounding more like a disgruntled old man instead of the strapping leader of their Organization, Xemnas let out a quiet little grunt as he took a seat beside his second-in-command. With their legs swinging freely over the edge of Twilight Town’s clock tower, they sat mere centimeters away from a nearly bottomless plummet. From that height, Saïx could barely make out the figures of the men and women walking the streets below him. What would they have thought, he wondered, if on that peaceful evening, their ordinary, innocent lives were shattered by the broken corpse of a blue-hair man, splattered onto the concrete? Spurred on by morbid curiosity, Saïx couldn’t help but lean forward, challenging the call of the void.

Before he even came close to tipping over, however, Xemnas distracted him with another offer of the ice cream bar, waving it gently in front of his face, effectively breaking the hold of Saïx’s intolerable apathy. 

“You should take this before it melts,” the Superior recommended. 

What else could he do but obey his orders? 

Saïx had fond memories of sea salt ice cream – of lazy summer days with Lea, running after the neighborhood ice cream trucks and counting out their hard-earned change. Drawn by the memory, he stared down at the ice cream bar and realized that while he distinctly remembered having eaten something similar in the past, he couldn’t actually recall the flavor. 

He had the memory, but… he didn’t have the _qualia_. 

What was it like to experience the event of consuming a bar of sea salt ice cream? That bar, right then and there? What was the texture like? The flavor? He realized that he didn’t know. There was a mental and emotional disconnect from his previous life that Saïx hadn’t noticed until that moment.

He took a bite and _winced_ , shuddering in disgust as the salty ice cream melted between his teeth. It had no true flavor of its own – it was more watery than milky, only slightly salty yet saccharine sweet, overloading his nerves with sugar. It shattered the glass of his rose-tinted memories. Sitting together with Lea on the swing set of their local park, eating sea salt ice cream - was _this_ the experience that he had been longing to replicate for all those years? If he didn’t have the qualia, if he didn’t understand emotion, then just how much faith could he have in his own, fragmented memories? What was it about his time with Lea that had truly made him happy? …Or what if he was never happy to begin with, and his mind was just filling in the blanks with false recollections of lost emotions?

“Is everything alright?” Xemnas asked, drawing his attention back to the present. 

“…Why are we doing this?” he asked, suddenly. Suspicious of the Superior’s motives, he wasn’t willing to play along with Xemnas’s little field trip until he received some answers, for once. Was Xemnas trying to isolate him from Axel? He’d wanted, more than anything, to ask that question aloud, and yet, fearing for his position in the Organization, Saïx held his tongue. “What is the point of coming here, wasting our time on pointless diversions?”

Xemnas tilted his head with a gentle hum, looking away as though he, himself, didn’t truly know the answer. 

“I… wish to better understand our foe,” he explained rather poorly. “I wish to understand _Sora_.”

“Through sitting on this clock tower and eating ice cream?”

“I know that it must seem rather convoluted,” Xemnas chuckled, “But I intend to better understand Sora through a thorough comprehension of the thoughts and the actions of his Nobody. This clock tower is a location of particular interest to our dear Roxas, though I cannot fathom the reason why.” 

So, in the end, Xemnas’s plans circled back to Number XIII, all over again. What he wished to ultimately accomplish, Saïx didn’t know – but he also didn’t anticipate that Xemnas would ever care to tell him. Instead of guessing wildly, Saïx looked back at the face of the clock tower and wondered just how many times Roxas, and Xion, and even _Axel_ must have come there, together. Sitting on their high perch, they must have felt untouchable. Unreachable. Thousands of miles away from their troubles in the World That Never Was. 

He felt a pang of jealousy twist through his stomach - and he felt so foolish. 

With his throat constricting, Saïx didn’t dare to say a single word in response, fearing that his pain would show through in the tremble of his voice or the hesitant uncertainty in his choice of words - so he let Xemnas talk, filling the void of silence.

“Their ultimate intentions are one and the same: both Sora and his Nobody possess an unbreakable will and a strong desire to protect their closest allies. Sora raced blindly through Castle Oblivion, facing unspeakable trials, in pursuit of someone precious to him. I wonder, then: to what lengths will our Roxas go for somebody similar?” 

“…You speak of Xion.”

“And Axel.” Without so much as looking down, Xemnas dropped his bare popsicle stick over the edge of the clock tower, letting it tumble down its edifice, clacking against the stone. “For them, I anticipate that Thirteen would oppose even the very ideals of our Organization. In fact… I believe that they all would, for the sake of… friendship. Roxas, Xion, and Axel, sacrificing everything for their most precious treasures. Pray tell, Seven… how far would you go to protect yours?”

His chest tightened. 

Xemnas blinked back at him, composed and calm. Though both of the Superior’s hands remained folded on his lap, Saïx could have sworn he’d felt them grip around his neck, crushing his throat until he heard that final crack. 

“An irrelevant question. I have no one precious to me.”

“I see,” Xemnas responded with a noticeable smile. …Saïx had given the right answer, then; he let out a deep, weary breath, as his Superior only leaned back and chuckled. “Then you and I are one and the same. Perhaps you may have something to gain from this venture, as well. While we could easily analyze Roxas’s behavior from a distance, I find that there is something unique in sharing an experience, instead of merely observing it. For you see, Seven, I understand their thought process perfectly well. I have seen both Sora and Roxas’s behavior firsthand. I comprehend their motivations, I have seen their memories, but I do not have…”

“…The qualia.”

For the first time since they’d met, Xemnas’s smile reached his golden eyes in a startlingly convincing display of true happiness. They crinkled at the corners, showing evidence of his age. 

“Just so. What better way to replicate the qualia of a boy’s devotion to his companions than by walking in his footsteps? Sitting on the highest tower of a land engulfed in perpetual twilight, overlooking the sunset with my closest companion, I stand on the precipice of true understanding, teetering on the edge, as I await the final poke.”

“You must be desperate, if I am your answer to Roxas’s Xion… or to Sora’s Kairi.”

“You speak so poorly of yourself. You are my answer, Seven, and I select you with _pride_ ,” Xemnas remarked without a moment’s hesitation. He spoke with absolute confidence, yet nary a display of arrogance. His unshakable certainty elicited a strange reaction in the pit of Saïx’s empty chest. Despite the fact that they shared no history together, Saïx felt a closeness to Xemnas, all the same. In the ten years that Saïx had spent scheming and plotting in the background, searching for vulnerabilities in this absolute goliath, he’d learned less about Xemnas in that time than he had in the last fourteen days. 

As self-assured as he had been about his position in the Organization, in truth, he had known so little.

Warmth blossomed in the pit of his chest, and yet, with an incredulous scoff, Saïx turned away, refusing to play into Xemnas’s hand.

“Are you honestly attempting to claim that you would betray your Organization for me? That you would follow Sora’s example, throwing away everything you have in pursuit of a singular ideal?”

“Not quite. I am older and wiser than that. I have no business acting upon such impulsive, worldly desires. We must base our decisions on more than simple instinct, Seven. We all have our roles to play, and on occasion, those roles require sacrifice. If it is your fate to fall at Sora’s hand, then so be it. I will allow the cards to fall where they may. …But never doubt that I would mourn your absence. It would wound me, deeply, to lose you.”

Perhaps it wasn’t the perfect response, steeped in classic romanticism, but in many ways, it was the answer that Saïx preferred, if only due to the fact that it was honest. His logic was sound. It was mature and reasonable - and remarkably considerate, when he hadn’t been expecting any kindness from the Superior at all. 

He was satisfied with it. And yet, when Saïx didn’t say anything more, choosing instead to stare out at the perpetual sunset, Xemnas seemed almost… worried. He leaned in closer, as though he were attempting to discern some subtle change in Saïx’s chronically apathetic expression. 

“You are disappointed by my answer,” Xemnas remarked suddenly, in more of a self-assured statement than a question.

“What would lead you to believe that? You only speak the truth. Devoting yourself to any single individual, giving everything that you are for them, would be madness.”

“Ah, but is that not what love is meant to be?”

“…I wouldn’t know; I don’t have the qualia.”

Xemnas actually laughed at that – a low baritone, soft and charming. Looking at his handsome face, lighting up with joy – and it _was_ handsome – Saïx couldn’t help but join in. It was ridiculous… two Nobodies who knew nothing of basic human kindness, speaking of the purity of love and devotion.

“Perhaps an understanding of such intense emotion is beyond us,” Xemnas reasoned. “At the very least, however, we are not so wretched that we cannot find meaning and contentment in our own experiences, as little as they may be worth.” 

“What meaning?” Saïx argued with a scathing, self-depreciating smirk. “What is there to gain from living in this shell of a body?”

“This life still has its pleasant moments. Would you not agree? Look around us -” Despite Xemnas’s prompt, however, Saïx noticed that he only ever looked at him. “…There is still such beauty in this world.”

Under the weight of that intense stare, he couldn’t help but challenge it, golden eyes, locking in place. Xemnas never looked away – not once. And Saïx couldn’t help but feel that he was talking about _him_ instead of the sunset. 

The Superior lifted his hand, bringing it closer to Saïx’s cheek, though at the very last moment, he pulled back, reaching instead for the familiar handkerchief in his pocket. 

“Your ice cream is melting.” Xemnas gently tutted, as he dabbed at the little puddle on Saïx’s coat. 

As he grumbled and growled, Xemnas only smiled back at him, as charming as ever. “Did you dislike the flavor?” he asked.

“It wasn’t as pleasant as I remembered.” Growing tired of clinging onto that melting bar of ice cream, Saïx dropped it down the edge of the clock tower, forgetting about it entirely for the second time that evening.

“Few things from the past truly are.” 

When he’d finally cleaned up the mess, Xemnas offered him the handkerchief, squeezing a single corner between his index and his middle fingers.

“You will have to launder it, but… I want you to keep this,” he insisted.

“Because I am constantly creating messes?” Saïx hissed, though not unkindly.

“As a token of our friendship,” Xemnas corrected. Despite his better judgement, Saïx accepted the gift without a single protest. “A sincere friendship with a dear companion. A bond and a shared human fondness for which I possess both the memory _and_ the qualia.”

“Rather presumptuous of you, to assume I feel the same.”

He was only teasing of course. Though he’d never say such a thing aloud, in truth, Saïx felt closer to Xemnas, then, than he did to Axel. 

“I bid you to forgive my audacity but having you by my side makes me bold. Saïx… though I am older and wiser, you elicit within me the frightening knowledge that I could very well repeat the mistakes of my youth all over again.”


	5. Chapter 5

Following Marluxia's defeat, the Organization’s lone tea kettle had gone neglected for months, sitting sad and untouched in the dusty drawer of forgotten items belonging to the dead, if not quite the buried. A shame, that. Saïx had always preferred tea over coffee, though he never bothered to brew either for himself.

It just wasn’t worth the effort.

Instead, he drank whatever swill the others prepared in bulk, not that he was grateful for it. On the contrary, Saïx complained about the poor taste of the coffee more often than anybody else. He was the one who managed the Organization’s finances, and yet, always the miser, he slashed the group’s food budget year after year, condemning them to an eternity of cheap, watered down coffee and generic breakfast cereals that everyone hated. In fact, the only high-quality ingredients in the kitchen were those that Saïx, himself, enjoyed. By limiting their pantry options, he had hoped to surreptitiously push the others into preparing dishes that suited his tastes. 

Strangely enough, it had worked for most of everything, save for beverages. Despite the terrible coffee, still, nobody ever thought of preparing tea. 

Until that day. 

Ordinarily, Saïx was always the first member of Organization XIII to awaken and make his way into the kitchen, but on that morning, somebody had actually beaten him to the punch. With clear suspicion, he squinted at Marluxia’s old kettle, washed and polished on the stove, and wondered just which bumbling troglodyte had slithered out of the primordial ooze to discover his very first taste of culture that morning. 

Was it Luxord or Xaldin, perhaps? 

It certainly wasn’t Axel, king of the inconsiderate masses, who didn’t possess a single civilized bone in his body. Like a bumbling hunter, Number VIII had scrambled to entrap Saïx in conversation ever since he’d return from Twilight Town: waiting for him after meetings, bursting into his office unannounced – but never would he ever think to entice him with tea. After all, Axel was never clever enough to discover the art of bribery. Not as though he would have known a single one of Saïx’s preferences, when they hadn’t truly spoken to each other in ages. They were strangers. At that point, Saïx couldn’t find a single reason why he should so much as deign to grace that man with the time of day. 

So, whenever Axel came looking for him outside of normal business hours, Saïx simply locked his door and tuned out the incessant knocking. Part of why he awoke so early in the first place was to avoid Axel’s company at the breakfast table. 

His precious solitude that morning, however, was shattered by the sound of soft, even footsteps, echoing in the quiet hallway. Anticipating yet another unwelcome intrusion by Axel, Saïx tightened his grip around his butter knife, strangling the handle - but when he turned to face the doorway, instead of that infuriating, familiar face, it was Xemnas, of all people, who stood before him. Even at that ungodly hour, he was as meticulously groomed as ever. Not a single hair out of place. 

Disarmed by the Superior’s imposing presence, the butter knife slipped out of Saïx’s grip, clattering onto the granite countertop. 

Something must have happened. Xemnas had designed a kitchenette into his chambers for the express purpose of avoiding his subordinates. There was hardly any reason for him to mingle amongst the rank and file, and yet there he was, striding into the common kitchen for what must have been the first time in years. Saïx tensed immediately, expecting the worst – but Xemnas only smiled and drew closer, as though they were old friends who hadn’t seen each other in ages. 

“Good morning, Saïx. You are quite the early bird,” the Superior greeted, as he checked on the tea kettle, slowly turning up the heat. “Already awake and hard at work… You put me to shame, truly; I must admit, with great embarrassment, that, on ordinary mornings, I am, more often than not, still fast asleep at this hour.”

“You deserve a moment’s respite, when you work as hard as you do,” Saïx replied, going through the proper formalities, all with a forced, yet undeniably convincing smile. “Though you will have to forgive me, Lord Superior. I don’t recall what differentiates today from an… ‘ordinary morning,’ as you say. Is there a special occasion that I have forgotten?”

Unlikely. Saïx had never overlooked a special event in his entire life. His day planners and his calendars were meticulously organized; his planning, exceptional. 

_Always_.

“Not quite,” Xemnas answered. “Today merely marks the beginning of what I hope shall become my new routine: to be the first to rise in the morn and the last to retire, come nightfall. As the Superior of this Organization, it is my duty to serve as a source of inspiration to those who follow me, and yet, what a poor image of leadership I must portray, nestled in my blankets, consumed by lethargy, while my lieutenant never rests. You honor this Organization with your extraordinary diligence; it is only fitting that I respond with an equal amount of my own.”

Saïx pushed himself as hard as he did not entirely by choice but merely as a result of circumstance. In order to climb the ranks of their Organization, he had needed to impress the Superior. He’d needed time to research the history and the background of his missing friend – though in truth, there were times, too, when he’d just needed a moment to himself. A single hour to sit alone in the kitchen, wiping his mind and thinking of nothing. There was no reason, save for pride, for Xemnas to mirror his intolerable work hours. 

“On the contrary. As the Superior, you are free to do whatever you please,” Saïx replied, attempting to subtly dissuade him.

“Then allow me to follow your example. I would like to improve myself, if I could.”

“For whom? Your power over this Organization is absolute. We are all well aware of the vast extent of your abilities; you have nobody left to impress.”

He’d expected some kind of ridiculous excuse – some pointless argument or display of machismo, but instead, Xemnas actually lingered on that thought for a moment, silently pondering the mystery. Now, that was an occurrence worth celebrating. Saïx had long grown accustomed to others ignoring his questions completely. 

“What about you?” Xemnas asked, countering with another question. “You inspire me to reach ever higher. I want to work harder for you. I want to prove myself – to become somebody worthy of your devotion. I may dazzle Demyx and Xigbar with cheap parlor tricks, but yours is the opinion that matters - and I highly suspect that you are not so easily impressed. Tell me, Saïx… have I surpassed _your_ expectations?”

What a strange train of thought. What point was Xemnas attempting to make? The stifling silence that followed his question was broken only by the screeching whistle of Marluxia’s tea kettle, blaring for only a millisecond before Xemnas grabbed the handle, lifting it from the fire so quickly, its screams were suffocated before they ever reached their crescendo. He never so much as glanced at the counter, and yet, with pinpoint accuracy, he popped open the lid of the little, porcelain teapot and drenched its leaves in scalding water. 

“Have you surpassed my expectations… as the leader of this Organization?” 

“As a _man_.”

So, the question was a personal one. Xemnas pushed the boundaries of professionalism just by asking. The silent implication hung heavily in the air, and yet, silver tongue turned to lead, Saïx didn’t dare to clarify what the Superior had meant – and Xemnas didn’t pressure him. 

Even when time crawled onward and Saïx said nothing, the Superior only cocked his head and glanced down at the opened teapot, watching curiously as the dried blossoms burst back to life in the water, taking on shape and color, long forgotten. 

“…May I speak freely?” he said at last.

“You always do.”

Xemnas let out a quick, sardonic laugh, nothing more than rushed puff of air. They were both too old and far too cynical to be playing such games. If need be, both of them could transform into pathological liars, and yet there they were, refusing to admit it. 

“Oh, how little you know. I restrain myself, terribly, in your presence.”

“Then you wish to speak carelessly,” Saïx corrected, daring to tease him. He’d expected a quick show of irritation, but instead, Xemnas only smiled.

“…Yes.” 

Watching Xemnas unravel, loosening the tenseness in his body, letting out the breath he’d been holding for gods only knew how long, was like watching a statue come to life, cracking at the joints, as he slowly regained his fluidity. Only after his expression softened did Saïx realize how unnatural he’d always appeared in person. A perfect, porcelain doll. 

Chuckling, Xemnas tucked his bangs behind his ear, brushing his fingertips against his temple, in the process. When he pulled his hand away, Saïx saw it: his pristine, black glove was stained a startling and vivid bronze. 

…He was wearing concealer - a mask that he applied at the start of every morning, to hide his imperfections from the rest of the world. And it was then that Saïx realized that he’d never seen Xemnas do something as ordinary as touch his face before, or run his hand through his hair, or fiddle with his coat. Ordinary tics or minute adjustments just never were a part of Xemnas’s life. 

Were those conscious decisions, he wondered? 

If so, how exhausting it must have been, for the Superior to coach himself to stand still, tall, and statuesque, holding his head high as a god among men. 

“Go on, then,” Saïx encouraged against his better judgement. His pulse quickened. When he looked into Xemnas’s scrutinizing gaze, he could have sworn he’d found a crack in the ice, an emotion that he didn’t quite recognize, hovering somewhere, trapped between possessiveness and fondness.

Xemnas took a deep breath and slowly, silently released it. “I would like for you to abandon Axel and devote yourself to me.” 

“…I already have.”

“ _No_ ,” Xemnas insisted, eagerly grasping for more. “…Not entirely. If Axel were to come to your doorstep, begging and weeping, claiming to have realized the error of his ways, would you rebuild the bridge that you so furiously burned from both of your respective islands?”

“Am I not obligated to do so? I’m certain that you’ve already done your research. We grew up together. I’ve known Axel for the vast majority of my life. Our shared history –”

“Does not imply that you must overlook his faults,” Xemnas concluded. “You deserve nothing short of the very best and brightest. Why do you refuse to hold Axel to the same lofty expectations to which you hold yourself? Do you not deserve a worthy companion whom you may call your equal? Do you not yearn for a partner who stands beside you proudly?”

“Are you implying that Axel is unworthy of my company?”

“I am not implying anything. I state it, outright: Axel is unworthy of you.” How charmingly bold. A rush of pride surged through him, though Saïx would never dare to admit as much. Even so, he stood just a little taller in response to Xemnas’s praise, blossoming under his attention. “I understand that Axel has been seeking your company, as of late. I must only ask – _why now_ , when he had years at his disposal to address the growing gap between you. Is his recent interest in you sincere? Or is it merely a response to our budding friendship? Or perhaps an act of desperation to salvage your failed relationship, inspired by Roxas’s growing discontent as a member of our Organization?”

He hadn’t considered that possibility. Was talking to him just… damage control? 

“Does Axel want you?” Xemnas asked, his voice, soft and deceivingly gentle. “Or does he merely want _someone_? Anyone - and to what degree, I may ask? Are you someone dearly beloved, to hold and to cherish, somebody that he chooses proudly… or are you merely a familiar presence to which he has grown accustomed?”

The way Xemnas phrased it made it almost impossible to see their relationship as anything but the latter. Somewhere deep inside of him, Saïx realized that fallacy, and yet couldn’t reason his way out of the spiral. 

“It was many years ago, but we had planned a future together. We were –”

“It hardly matters who you _were_ ,” Xemnas scolded, harshly correcting him for the very first time since the beginning of their tentative friendship. “In taking a partner, a man makes a promise. He declares with confidence and pride: I choose you, above all others. Under any and all circumstances. _You_ , as you are, now, at this very moment - not the boy you were nor the thousands of potential men you could become. For good or for ill, in sickness and in health, I choose to weave my thread of fate with yours. …That is my promise to you, Saïx. What can Axel offer to you in turn, save for disappointment and mediocrity?”

Axel didn’t even choose to stand by his side when life was simple, and pure, and good – when they were sixteen years old, with nothing but each other. Even when he had no other options, Saïx had always been an afterthought. He must have looked horrified: paralyzed by a heavy dose of reality, crushed by the weight of his disappointment.

Surely, Xemnas must have realized that, for despite his determination and his passion, he silenced himself with a gentle cough into his fist. He straightened his collar. A slow, gentle calm washed over his body like a wave. Though it was clear that Xemnas could have torn apart Axel’s character for hours, though it was clear that he’d _wanted_ to, still, he said nothing. 

“…I apologize.” Xemnas’s voice barely rose above a whisper. “It was never my intention to upset you.”

“You only spoke the truth. Even if I appear… ‘upset’ in away way, I know that it is only for the best.”

“Perhaps. But the truth can be painful and cruel. In an effort to prove a point, I cut you far too deeply. I should have been more subtle. The fault is mine, and I apologize.” 

Honestly, Saïx didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t received an apology like that in… well, he _never_ had, truly. Apologies never meant anything to him, in the past, but Xemnas spoke with such eloquence, such sincerity, that those sweet, gentle words seeped through his barriers, digging deep into the cracks. It was the first apology in his life that Saïx had ever, truly accepted. No questions asked, and no strings attached.

As though paying recompense, Xemnas served him tea with precision and grace. Even the presentation was flawless. Before lowering the cup and saucer, Xemnas placed his little finger onto the countertop, steadying his movements and muting the clatter of porcelain against granite. 

Such careful consideration, shown even towards the simple act of serving tea. 

“One lump or two?” 

Such an insignificant question, and yet it hammered the final nail into his coffin, sealing him in. Paralyzed, Saïx stared down at the cup, his vision, tunneling. He’d been damned from the very start.

“…Two.”

“In truth, I did not know which blend of tea would suit your preferences,” Xemnas admitted, with a barely perceptible lilt in his voice that could have almost been mistaken for embarrassment. “If you may overlook my shameful display this morning, Saïx… I would appreciate the opportunity and the privilege of discovering your tastes, for myself. For now, however, I hope this blend is to your liking. If you would like me to remake it, however, then I am certainly amenable to doing so.”

“No. It’s perfect. Everything is perfect.”

“Agreed. Sharing a cup of tea in the early morning, with you, is… perfect.”

Overwhelmed by disbelief and horrific, foreign, disgusting, ravaging _happiness_ , Saïx squeezed his hands together, twisting at his leather gloves until the fabric creaked and groaned. It had to be a trick. People like him, _Nobodies_ like him, didn’t get to feel as wonderful as he did at that moment. It just wasn’t in his stars. 

Saïx bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood, just to keep himself from smiling. 

“You asked me, earlier, if you had exceeded my expectations.” The urge to save face and lie never even crossed his mind. “…You have.”

After a quiet moment’s hesitation, Xemnas removed his glove, gracing his cheek with the side of his hand, brushing away a lock of long, blue hair. Though the touch itself was completely chaste, it felt so intimate that Saïx could have sworn he’d felt it – 

_Love_. 

Not the memory of it, but something new. His interpretation of the word, his perception of the qualia, which Saïx realized were no more and no less significant than anyone else’s. 

___________________________________________

What was it that Xemnas had told him? …He could hide his wounds to keep up appearances but healing the _pain_ was another story, in and of itself. 

Behind closed doors, Saïx abandoned all traces of dignity, tearing off his coat to collapse onto his sofa in a bloody heap of broken bones and wounded pride. The jagged lacerations from his battle with Roxas still hadn’t closed, after all that time. Though there wasn’t a single sign of infection, it was almost as though his body had forgotten how to heal. 

It was that _keyblade_. He was certain of it. 

The light burst through him like an atom bomb, white-hot and searing, setting his nerves aflame. It was his antithesis. Something that neutralized everything that Saïx _was_ , damaging something primal within him. Something essential to the fiber of his being, breaking the bonds that linked carbon to oxygen, tugging the iron from his blood and denaturing his proteins. Saïx’s body was falling apart at the seams. Every now and again, when he felt particularly masochistic, he would glance at the wound in his arm and watch as black smoke rose from between his stitches. Cold dread sent shivers down his spine. He didn’t know why he kept doing that to himself. 

He popped another painkiller, and then he popped _two_ , swallowing them dry with a swig of whiskey. Exhausted, he threw a pillow over his face, just to shield himself from the moonlight. He could afford a moment’s rest; Xemnas brought him dinner at precisely seven in the evening and not a moment sooner. By the time he came to him, Saïx was always drifting away on a cocktail of ethanol and codeine, too weak to even lift his arms. Xemnas always had to spoon feed him. By all means, the Superior should have thrown him to the wayside as punishment for his crushing defeat against Roxas, but instead, he was nothing short of the perfect, loyal partner from the very beginning. 

He never once complained. Not even when Saïx vomited onto his rug the moment Xemnas shoved his dislocated shoulder back into place. He didn’t know what did him in: the pain or the sickening _crack_. Without a single complaint, Xemnas cleaned up the mess, sewed up his wounds, and tucked Saïx into bed, where he would spend the next two days requiring nearly constant care. 

Xemnas was a kind and thoughtful lover – and they _were_ lovers, as strange as it was to consider. The Superior kept him company and entertained him with chess games that Saïx always lost. Lying beside each other in the dark, they would trade stories about their human lives. Xemnas liked to vent to him about his grudges and frustrations; he’d realized that much. Even if Saïx didn’t always follow what he was talking about, he was always more than happy to listen, considering how much Xemnas did for him, in return, picking up all the little pieces of his shattered emotional state, after the pills wore off and the reality of his pitiful defeat fell down upon him. 

It wasn’t often that he slept in his own bed, anymore, but, by habit, napping on the sofa was a comforting norm. Saïx finally managed to get some rest for the first time that day, drifting in and out of consciousness for what felt like hours, until he was awakened by a knock on his door. 

Bleary-eyed, he took a foggy glance at his old, grandfather clock. 

…Only six in the evening.

“Xemnas?” he called, though he didn’t bother to budge from the sofa. Xemnas had a copy of the key, after all; Saïx had entrusted it to him shortly after his initial recovery. After hearing nothing more than an affirmative hum and another charming series of knocks, Saïx put on his slippers and trudged over to the door with an irritated grumble. 

“What happened to the key?” he asked, squeezing at his scarred nose bridge. Though he knew it wasn’t possible, Saïx was convinced that he’d felt his blood pressure rising. 

“…I misplaced it.” Perhaps it was due to the fact that he was mumbling from behind the door, but Xemnas didn’t quite sound like himself… Was he sick? Honestly, he worked too hard. 

“What do you mean you ‘misplaced it?’ I explicitly told you to be careful; I only have two copies.”

“I know, and I apologize for my carelessness. Will you please unlock the door, Seven?” 

Saïx stared at the door, utterly baffled. Xemnas hadn’t called him “Seven” in ages, just as he had ceased being “The Superior” or the “Lord” of anything during the time they spent in each other’s company. They were on a first name basis, which felt more intimate than Saïx had ever anticipated, after all those years of relying on ingrained honorifics. 

…And yet that evening, he was “Seven.” Considering that strange detail, Saïx blinked back blankly at the door, until Xemnas derailed his train of thought - 

“I am certain that the others are beginning to grow curious as to why I remain standing outside of this doorway,” he stated in that same, raspy voice. …Ridiculous. If it were anybody else, Saïx would have left them in the cold; Xemnas was lucky that he was fond of him. Finally relenting, Saïx unlocked the door to let him in… 

Only to find Axel standing where he’d expected the Lord Superior. 

“Don’t close the door! Look -” Before he could continue, Axel devolved into a massive coughing fit, clearing his throat after that terrible Xemnas impersonation. “Look, I’m sorry I had to trick you like that, but I really –” Against Axel’s orders, Saïx slammed the door closed regardless, but Axel stuck his foot through the opening before it could completely shut, effectively blocking him. “Wait! Saïx… C’mon, man. Wait… _Please_.”

Whether it was Axel’s simpering tone or his own mental and physical exhaustion, Saïx just couldn’t fight him off. Wordlessly, he released his grip on the door and turned around, walking right back to the sofa. As he threw himself down onto the cushions and tugged his blankets back over his shivering body, he heard Axel tentatively enter and close the door behind him. The lock twisted shut, trapping them together. 

“You’ve arrived at a poor time,” Saïx mumbled, trying desperately to rub life back into the dark circles around his eyes. Not that it mattered. Both Xemnas and Axel had seen him at his worst: with bruises around his throat and his head on the floor. Compared to that, what was an undershirt and messy ponytail?

“Yeah, obviously. You look _awful_ ,” Axel replied with that infuriating, casual lilt, as though he hadn’t just insulted him. “Xemnas told us you were out with the flu for a couple days. Didn’t know 'having the flu' meant breaking all your bones. There’s a blood stain on your right side, by the way. Might want to get that checked out.” 

Saix glanced down at his torso, and indeed, a crimson puddle, growing larger by the second, had bloomed onto his white, cotton undershirt. He pulled up the fabric and traced his fingers over the wound; his stitches had reopened. Grumbling, he pressed Xemnas’s handkerchief against the wound, applying pressure. 

“Did someone beat you up or something? Who did that to you?”

“…Who else?”

Shock, grief, and intolerable pity flashed across his former’s friend’s expressive, green eyes. Making his way further into the room, Axel approached him slowly, with his hands extended and his palms revealed, as though he were trying to calm a wounded deer. 

…Saïx realized, then, that Axel thought he was blaming _Xemnas_. 

“You don’t have to take that,” Axel said, his voice, barely rising above a whisper. “It’s not right. If Xemnas loved you, he wouldn’t –”

“It was _Roxas_ , Axel,” he snapped back, unable to tolerate his stupidity any longer. “…It was Roxas. As Xemnas’s second-in-command, it falls to me to quash any voices of dissent before they take root and spread throughout the rest of this Organization.”

“Then... you’re saying things got violent,” Axel parroted, shaking his head in disbelief, as though it wounded him, physically, to learn that his friend and his _former_ friend were tearing each other apart. “Saïx, were you really gonna -”

“Destroy him?” he scoffed, filling in the blanks. “I was presented with the same options that you were: to return Roxas to the Organization or send him to the void. It goes unsaid which option I would personally prefer. Roxas should consider himself fortunate that you were assigned to take my place in this salvage mission.”

“So, if you had it your way, you’d kill him.”

“What of it?” Saïx challenged, spreading his arms wide, giving Axel ample opportunity to stab him through the chest. “Yes, I attempted to restrain Roxas in the efforts to condemn him to a slow and gruesome execution. If you wish to exact your vengeance upon me, then by all means, you are welcome to do so. …I don’t have the strength to summon my weapon any longer.”

Defying all of Saïx’s expectations, instead of shouting and stomping his feet like a petulant child, Axel calmly sat beside him, sinking down to the floor and resting his back against the couch. Axel’s long hair brushed against his fingertips. “The only thing that matters is that you failed. Roxas is okay. He’s fine, and so are you. Because of that, I won’t do anything. I didn’t come here to fight or to argue.”

“Really? Then why _did_ you come? For what vapid purpose have you been trailing after me for the past three weeks?”

Tilting his head back, Axel looked up into his eyes and shot him a reconciliatory, lopsided smile – one that quickly calmed, taking on a serious note, for the first time in Axel’s life. “I wanted to apologize.”

“For resorting to physical violence when you were attempting to argue over Roxas’s mission reports?” …It _was_ Roxas’s report – wasn’t it? 

“Not just that. Just… in general. I wanted to apologize for everything. It must have felt awful. It must have been lonely, working as hard as you did - all the late nights and overtime - just to climb up the ranks, while everyone else gave you shit about it. You must’ve been tired, spending all of your free time looking for her. I know that you never got any time to relax, maybe because I didn’t help out as much as I should’ve. And I know I probably made it worse, running around with Roxas all the time and having fun while you were working your ass off. But you know me: when the going gets tough, I just… I was never as resilient as you are.”

There was a time in his life when Axel’s words would have meant the world to him. Perhaps if he’d received them years ago, they would have been able to turn over a new leaf and to start over, but now…

Now, they were different people. _Too_ different. 

“If you expect anything to change between us because of the nature of your ‘confession,’ then I fear that you are going to be sorely disappointed.”

“I’m not expecting to get anything from you,” Axel replied. Though his voice shook, he never backed down, speaking with renewed confidence that Saïx would have never expected from a man as flaky as he was. “It’s just something that’s been on my mind, lately. …I know you’re tough as nails. Think I saw you step on a nail once, and you didn’t even flinch,” he chuckled. “But you told me something, a long time ago, when we were new here, and you were first forging that claymore of yours. A weapon can’t just be sharp, and heavy, and hard. It has to be flexible. Anything less, and it’ll shatter under pressure. …I don’t want that to happen to you.”

“If you actually cared in the slightest, you would have said this ages ago.”

“I always wanted to – I just never had the courage. Maybe this is too little, too late. If you want to cut ties with me because of that, I… I get it. I don’t like it, but I know where you’re coming from. …I just want to make sure that you’re okay. And that what you’re doing now with Xemnas isn’t just to get back at me.”

“What would ever lead you to conclude something as absurd as that? Are you earnestly so vain that you believe my every action must revolve around you?”

“Come on, give me some credit.” With a breathy laugh, Axel turned around, resting his chin on his hands, gently folded on the cushions. He looked up at him with a familiar, gentle smile, as warm as the morning sun. “I know you, Saïx. You’re a vindictive little snot. Always had been, always will be. We both know you’d gouge out one of your own eyes, if it meant you got to watch someone you hated lose two. You know that it bothers me, watching you give everything you’ve got to _him_.”

He thought he’d been subtle. Grumbling, Saïx rubbed at his dry, aching eyes. “How did you know that I was involved with Xemnas in the first place?”

“Are you kidding me? The way you look at him, like he’s your sun and stars. …It’s the way you used to look at me, when we were kids. You always dive head first into these kinds of things, so, I just want to make sure you’ve thought this through. I want you to tell me the truth, Isa: do you think he actually loves you back? If you can honestly say yes to that, then… I’ll back off and let you do whatever you want. But if not, then I want you to rethink this.”

“Of course Xemnas cares for me – though I am not entirely certain whether you do. He suspects that you are only attempting to salvage our friendship now that Roxas has disappeared.”

“Is that what he told you?” Axel hissed, clearly concluding that Xemnas was playing mind games. 

“Was he incorrect?”

Axel sighed, running his hand through his messy hair. 

“Well, I mean, maybe things falling apart with Roxas was the trigger,” Axel confessed after struggling with the truth, himself. “Getting the order to bring him back or to just… _get rid of him_. It’s insane. I’m his friend. And I know I’ve been putting it off even though it’s important, but to be honest, I’m just… I’m scared I won’t be able to convince him. And thinking about that fear, _really_ thinking, it’s made me realize that… if I fail, my biggest regret will be letting things end the way they did. With fights, and arguments, and misunderstandings. Life’s too short for that. I try to remind myself that I was lucky to have had any time with him at all, but I think it’s only human to want more. Isn’t it? To have wanted more good times with Roxas – and with you, too. You’re the only one I have left, now.”

“How the tables have turned.” 

Callous as ever, Saïx threw his arm over his eyes, blocking out the sight of Axel’s pitiful expression - emotionally closing himself off from anything his former friend may have had to offer. But he could still hear that charming laughter, like little bells, blowing in the wind.

“I guess they have. Gloat all you want.” They sat there for a moment, in calm silence, appreciating the irony of the situation. “If what you have with Xemnas is the real deal, then I’m happy for you. And I won’t blame you if you decide to see this Organization thing through to the end.”

“Are you implying that you won’t?” Saïx asked. 

Though he never moved his arm from his eyes, he struck his knee against Axel’s forehead, smirking as he heard that pained little whimper.

“I don’t think I can work for a guy who thinks it’s okay to send friends to _kill_ friends. Look, I know that you like him, and I don’t mean to talk shit about him to you, but… you know that Xemnas isn’t a nice person, right? He isn’t a _good_ person.”

“…He’s good to me.”

And to Saïx, that was enough. He peeked out from behind his arm and regretted it immediately. Axel’s disappointed gaze made him feel like a monster.

“Well, he’s not good to anybody else. I’m getting out of here, and I think that if the others are smart, they’ll bail too.”

Saïx forced himself to sit up despite the pain, just to gain that miniscule height advantage over Axel. 

“You can’t betray Xemnas,” he exclaimed, as though Axel were talking about something as suicidal as jumping off of Twilight Town’s clock tower. “He’ll hang you.”

“Last time I checked, I can’t betray someone when I was never really on their side in the first place. What about you? How close are you to Xemnas, really? With Roxas gone and me out of the picture soon, there’ll only be six of you left. Now, I’ve fought Sora before, and he’s tough. He’s going to tear through this Organization; I just know it. You really think Xemnas won’t send you out to die for him, when the numbers get low enough?”

“Sacrifices come with the territory. In any army, soldiers are expected to fight and die for their commanders. Even as Xemnas’s lieutenant, I am still… expendable.” Saïx could accept that. Any reasonable player would sacrifice the queen on their chessboard if it meant protecting the king three moves later. “I only hope to believe that putting my life at risk would be a last resort.”

“But you agree that he’d send you to die.”

“Wouldn’t you, in Xemnas’s position?”

“Are you kidding me?” Axel scoffed, indignant. “You think I’d just sit around, ranting about Kingdom Hearts, while I sent my friends down, one by one, to get bashed around and shot at? No way. I would never do that to you, Isa. Never. And it bothers me that you think Xemnas would – and even worse, that you don’t have a problem with it. Thinking of people like chess pieces just isn’t a good mindset. And Xemnas isn’t a good influence. Don’t you see that?”

“No. Honestly, I don’t.”

“…You know what?” Axel asked, standing, suddenly. “I take back what I said about letting you stay with Xemnas. I think we need each other, and that you should come with me. Staying with Xemnas is suicide – but so is betraying the Organization alone. If we part ways, you and me are as good as dead. But if we left together, I know that we could make it. We’d have no problem fighting off the Nobodies that Xemnas would send after us. We could finally start over. Do you remember what we always talked about doing when we grew up? Well, now’s our chance. We can go and see the world together. We can stay up all night in seedy hotels, or bed and breakfasts, or even camping out in the forest. We’d play cards and talk shit -”

“We’re too old for that,” Saïx dismissed, even when he couldn’t quite smother down that spark of excitement. Excitement, joy, and… hope. 

“We’re never too old. We’re stronger than ever; we can do this. And if Xemnas comes, then I’ll protect you, just like I used to. You won’t ever have to fight him. I promise.”

“If Xemnas comes after us, then my only hope is that you may survive long enough to lower me into my grave, thereby letting me down for the very last time.”

“Hilarious.” With a quiet chuckle and a roll of his eyes, Axel aimed a gentle, playful punch at Saïx’s arm – though even that ghost of touch sent violent jolts of pain tearing through his nerves. “Sorry. But I really mean what I said, you know? If we leave together, everything will be fine. Life will be good.”

Despite himself, even knowing that Axel was speaking nonsense, Saïx was actually starting to believe him. Gathering his strength, he stood, with Axel, rushing to support him. That look of excitement on Axel’s face made it clear that he’d already made up his mind for the both of them. At the very first command, Axel was prepared to pack his belongings and run. 

“…You make it sound so easy.”

“I know it won’t be, but it’ll be worth it, in the end. We’ll finally move on and start living again. …Just the three of us.”

“The three of us? Who are you -” Realization struck him like lightning - quick, and hard, and unforgiving. “… _Roxas_.” 

“Let’s find him together! And then the three of us can –”

He shoved Axel aside, slamming his back against his desk. Staggering, Saïx collapsed back down against his sofa, though what truly drained his strength wasn’t his wounds but the realization that, even after all those years, he could still be so, incredibly _stupid_. For just a split second, he’d placed his faith in Axel all over again, just to get burned.

He never learned his lesson.

“Stop… talking.”

“Wh-What? Saïx! I thought you were on board with this! C’mon, let's -”

“I won’t be playing any part in this mutiny!” 

“You were willing to come with me when you thought it was just us! Why does having Roxas there matter?” Axel replied – and he really did stomp his feet that time. “I’ll still be there! We’ll do all the things I said we would. What else do you want?”

“I wanted you to choose me!” Saïx growled. “But my loyalty, alone, was never enough to hold your interest, was it?”

Axel was lucky that he didn’t have the strength to summon his claymore. If he had it in his hands… Even when every bone and muscle screamed for rest, Saïx was overcome by the unspeakable urge to slam his blade down against Axel’s body again, and again, and _again_ , until blood splattered the walls of his pristine, little office and seeped through the shattered tile, dripping down into the ceiling of the storage room, directly below him. 

“You can’t be the only person in my life, Isa. I’m sorry.”

“…So am I.”

He’d expected Axel to throw a fit, but instead, in a rare display of maturity, he accepted reality for what it was, without a struggle or a single protest. 

“I guess that’s it, then.” Shaking his head, Axel turned around and opened a dark corridor, to lead him far, far away from The World That Never Was. Before he could step through it, however, he paused, taking a slow, hesitant glance back over his shoulder. “Take care of yourself. For what it’s worth, I’m glad I got to see you one last time.”

Saïx didn’t say a single word. Like a coward, he crossed his arms in a petulant display of anger, glaring daggers through his skull. …But undeniably, a part of him was glad, too.

“If you’re the one that Xemnas sends after me, to drag me back here, kicking and screaming, I’ll let you get a couple hits in for free. Okay?”

“You would deserve it.”

“Yeah. I guess I would,” Axel agreed, unable to hide those tears in his eyes, as the dark corridor swallowed him whole. “See you, Isa.”

His throat constricted; he didn’t even say goodbye. Always so eager to save face, even when he’d wanted to do nothing more than to beg him to stop, to run after him, grabbing onto his arm and dragging him back to stay with him for just one more day, Saïx sat there in fierce, determined silence and watched him disappear. Only when Axel was gone, when not a single trace of his energy remained in the room, did the sword finally fall. Clamping his hand over his mouth, Saïx muffled his voice, fearing just what he’d hear if he let himself fall completely. He shook and trembled through the trauma, but he never let out a single sound. Eyes wide in horror, still, he somehow kept himself from crying. 

After all, he was a grown man and the honorable lieutenant of Organization XIII. He didn’t have the right to fall apart.

But as though he’d known, somehow, that Saïx needed his support, Xemnas knocked on his door precisely thirty minutes early. Though he arrived with no supper and no gifts to speak of, Saïx fell into his arms, all the same. The door remained opened. They stood, half in the hallway, for all to see, and yet Xemnas never chastised him. With only a few whispered words and a soothing hand, stroking through his hair, he anchored him down and held him through the earthquakes.


	6. Chapter 6

“So, which poor soul will it be?” 

It was a little game that Xigbar liked to play – asking questions to which he already knew the answers. Hearing the confirmation for himself just gave him that extra little rush of validation that made him feel oh, so clever. Stroking his ego was a little vain, sure, but it got him through the grind of the day to day. 

The answer to this question, too, was certainly no surprise. Who else would old man Xehanort choose to house his essence, if not somebody who already possessed his _heart_ , if only in one, single iteration of his existence? 

“Saïx.” 

And there it was. What a shock.

Xigbar was actually tempted to roll his single eye at how dreadfully predictable his life had become, when Xehanort defied his expectations by actually walking over to Blueberry’s unconscious body. With growing, silent amusement, he watched as the boy peeled off his glove to card his fingers through Saïx’s hair.

“Naughty, naughty…” he scolded with a playful waggle of his finger. “Sticking your hands in Xemnas’s cookie jar? Pretty sure he wouldn’t like that. Even if you’re all technically the same person, you’re not a hive mind.”

“I wonder about that,” Xehanort confessed, as he twirled a lock of long, blue hair around his finger. “We have different memories. Different perceptions of the world around us. But maybe there’s some shared experience, after all. When I look down at this body,” he continued, brushing Saïx’s cheek with the side of his hand. “I feel… a spark of recognition.”

“Don’t get too attached,” Xigbar scolded. “Sooner or later, Saïx dearest will just be another Xehanort.”

“I’m jealous,” the boy muttered, sounding like the spurned, middle child who received the smaller piece of cake. 

Now, that was a riot!

“Are you serious?” Xigbar couldn’t help but bark out a laugh, echoing through the walls of the lab. “What’s there to be jealous about? You’re getting exactly what you want in the end – another one of your thirteen darknesses.”

“Maybe. …But this body is special. _I_ want it,” Xehanort said, with a dissatisfied, petulant sigh, as he traced his fingers over the scar on Saïx’s face. “I suspect that Xemnas does, too.”

“Oh, I bet he does,” Xigbar scoffed, though the joke went completely over Xehanort’s head. “You know, that’s kind of messed up, now that I think about it. By the time Sora burst in and set the curtains on fire, Saïx and Xemnas had been sharing a bed for months – not like they were doing a hell of a lot of sleeping.”

“Don’t be so juvenile,” Xehanort scolded, though Xigbar only raised his hands defensively in response. By all means, he should have been embarrassed, getting reprimanded by some kid, and yet, as shameless as ever, he pushed on bravely.

“No, listen. If Xemnas was playing around with him knowing that this was the end result, then that’s like -”

Wasn’t that just masturbation, at the end of it all?

Xigbar’s already raucous laughter transformed into full-blown, echoing cackles. Tears pricked at the corner of his eye, and he doubled over, struggling to catch his breath. Xehanort didn’t appreciate the joke _at all_. Those little, white eyebrows furrowed as a look of pure malice twisted over his features. 

“Just what is so funny?”

Struggling to catch his breath, Xigbar’s face remained flushed red from laughter. 

“Maybe you’ll understand when you’re older. But you better hope you don’t. When you get past the joke, it’s actually pretty dark. …Not sure I could sleep next to someone I knew I was gonna kill. Or I guess in Saïx’s case, it’s a fate worse than death, isn’t it?”

“If you have nothing of value to say, then be quiet and help me carry him,” Xehanort snapped, finally losing his patience.

“Alright, alright. I’ll get the head – you carry his feet. Take your time and get a good look at his ass, while you’re at it. Really appreciate that thing. Since once Saïx is back on our turf, I’m pretty sure the rest of us will never see him again.” 

Raising a brow in confusion and barely constrained irritation, Xehanort wormed his arms under Saïx’s legs and waited for Xigbar to join him. “What nonsense are you talking about, now? Where do you think he’ll go?”

“He’ll go back to being Xemnas’s favorite accessory, of course. You know how some women can’t leave the house without their handbags? It’s the same thing - only I bet Saïx is a hell of a lot less useful.”

“And you are?”

“Well, I’m helping you out now, aren’t I? …Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” Xigbar teased, patting Saïx’s cheek. “Enjoy your nap while you can. You’re gonna be in for a rude awakening in just a couple hours: two copies of the same guy, screaming at each other and tugging on your arms. Might as well just cut you in half and let them both take a piece. You’ll be just as dead, anyway, with the same exact guy, poking around in your corpse.”

With a forceful grunt, Xigbar hoisted up Saïx’s torso as best as he could – 

“Oof! Big boy, aren’t you?” He gave Saïx’s abs a curious poke. … _Rock hard_. Despite his girly hair and those stupid earrings, Saïx was certainly… well, he was something, alright. Large and in charge. “Somebody drinks too much protein powder. Should’ve eaten more salads and less steak. Would’ve made our job a lot easier.”

“Stop jostling him and stop talking,” Xehanort scolded. “You are making this _incredibly_ difficult.” 

“’Course this is difficult! We’re lugging, like, ninety kilos of dead weight! What do you say we find a bucket of water and just wake him up? Saïx has legs; he can walk.”

“And do you think that he would use those legs to willingly follow us?” Xehanort asked with an indignant scowl. “He doesn’t know me, and I highly doubt that Saïx would be inclined to follow you anywhere. We would have to knock him unconscious all over again. …He wouldn’t have any reason to come with us.”

For some reason, Xehanort sounded almost sad, at that moment. Gently releasing his grip on Saïx’s body, he urged Xigbar to prop him up against a wall. The two of them stood side by side, staring down at Xehanort’s future vessel, resting peacefully, completely oblivious to the horrors that would soon be inflicted upon him. 

“What’s the matter, kid?” Xigbar asked, feigning sympathy, if only to encourage Xehanort to spill the beans.

“…If Xemnas were here, do you believe that he could convince Saïx to follow us willingly?”

“That depends. If he lied about why we needed him, then sure. I don’t see why he wouldn’t come along, when he and Xemnas were that close. If he told the truth, though… well, all bets are off. No matter how good life was for the two of them, all the field trips and pillow talk, all of Saïx’s undeniable truths, were _lies_ , weren’t they? I mean, Xemnas was playing him from the start. Once Saïx figures out he’s nothing but a piece of meat – or a meat _puppet_ , I guess – he’s out of here. We better not turn him back into a Nobody until we have an answer. We’ll have one hell of a mess to pick up if he has his claymore when his nuclear reactors start going off.”

As though the both of them had come to the same conclusion, they took a few steps back, leaving Saïx propped up in the corner, all by himself. 

“Maybe we should leave this to Xemnas, after all.”

“That’d be for the best,” Xigbar agreed, showcasing sincere, if unexpected wisdom for once in his life. “Since you don’t want to make this harder for Saïx than it has to be… do you?”

Xehanort was silent, for a moment, as he carefully regarded the unconscious body beneath him.

“…No, I don’t.”

“Well, Xemnas’ll know how to soften the blow. He always had a way of talking to him. Saïx wouldn’t even give me the time of day, but with Xemnas… he really trusted him. Poor idiot.” Though his smile never wavered, Xigbar shook his head in an insincere display of pity – before kicking lightly at Saïx’s foot. Out cold. Dear old Blueberry never so much as roused from his slumber. “Come on. Let’s get out of here and pass the message on to Xemnas: he needs to hurry over and pick up his lover from the airport. …Or pick up his steak from the butcher shop, however you want to look at it.” 

Xehanort only hummed in quiet agreement, before turning to leave through a freshly opened dark corridor. Xigbar had thought that was the end of it, but before Xehanort stepped through the portal, the boy glanced back over his shoulder with a distant, forlorn gaze.

“I want to remember him like this. It’s a shame that his hair will turn white, soon.” 

“Hey, here’s an idea! You should cut off a chunk while you still have the chance. Use it to remember him by. When the real Saïx is long gone, and it’s just another you wearing his face, you’ll always have that little flash of blue in your pocket.” 

It was only a joke, and yet he watched in curious silence as Xehanort pulled out his pocketknife. He carded his fingers through Saïx’s hair, trying his damnest to find the piece with the fewest split ends, or whatever, and actually dared to cut it off. 

“Beautiful,” the boy mumbled, as he tied a little piece of string around one of the ends. 

“Don’t let Xemnas find that,” Xigbar warned. “He’ll know where it came from, and he won’t be happy.” 

“I’ll be careful.”

With that, Xehanort stood and motioned for him to follow as he vanished through his portal. Xigbar wanted nothing more than to await the arrival of Sleeping Beauty’s handsome prince. To watch the drama unfold and to witness the carnage when Saïx finally learned the truth. Somehow, he resisted the urge, however. With a playful smile and a casual roll of his shoulders, he followed after Xehanort, just as always.

_______________________________________

Someone lit a candle beneath his palm. 

A twinkling, flickering little light that warmed his skin and his sore, aching bones. He couldn’t open his eyes, not that he’d wanted to. The warmth of that gentle flame melted the thousand-year-old ice in the pit of chest, melting him from the inside out. In those long, lonely years, he’d forgotten what warmth even was. He just hadn’t realized it. A gentle caress, a whispered word. It was beautiful and pleasant… for a moment. 

That soft, ghost of a touch grew stronger. Spring’s splendor, turning to summer, bringing drought and famine; leaves, into flame. The heat griped onto his flesh and squeezed until his pale skin blossomed into a colored canvass of bruises, red, and blue, and purple, burning hotter and hotter still. 

Tied to the stake, he tried to pull away, but by that moment, Saïx couldn’t stop the sparks. Held down by chains, rusted nails slammed into his knuckles, shooting pure, searing fire twisting up his nerves, driving stakes into his arms and ripping his shoulders from their sockets. 

His eyes snapped open, wide and frantic. He woke up _screaming_ , his terror, spurred on by the sound of his own voice: the agonizing death knell of a wretch, cursed with the misfortune of enduring the crushing pain of falling down the abyss of death, not once but twice. 

Two sets of thick, heavy hands pinned him down, smothering him as he struggled, screaming his throat raw. In a panic, he ground his teeth together until his jaw popped with a sickening crack.

“Strong for a pretty-boy,” a deep, familiar voice rumbled, mocking his fear.

When the man’s hairy arm drifted by his face, Saïx snapped his teeth around his wrist and bit down hard enough to pierce the skin. The taste of hot, molten iron flooded his mouth, seeping between his teeth. 

Blood on his tongue. 

“You little -” 

From the corner of his eye, he could see the man winding up a punch that would only knock his teeth if he was lucky. It would shatter his jaw, if he wasn’t. 

“No violence!” a boyish voice, his saving grace, scolded. Though he sounded so young, that boy’s orders stopped the brute in his tracks – his fist, frozen in midair.

The giant cursed under his breath, smacking Saïx’s cheek with the back of his hand, instead. 

“If you don’t want me to get violent, then _jab him, already_!” 

“Then hold him steady,” the boy reprimanded. “I don’t want this needle breaking off.”

…What needle? Was he in a hospital somewhere? Saïx couldn’t remember anything. Where was he? What was happening? Were they going to –

He felt a sharp stab into his glutes, throwing his world into a screeching halt, sparks flying. Hurtling through the stars, only to slam headfirst into a brick wall, shattering his bones like glass. 

Every muscle in his body went lax. Weightless, he collapsed into his nest of blankets and pillows, motionless. 

“Hush now, it’s alright…” that familiar, youthful voice cooed. His eyelids fluttered. The world blurred around him, melding into colors he’d never seen before, taking shape, and sound, and form. He couldn’t focus his vision, but Saïx could still feel the sensation of cold fingers stroking through his hair, as those heavy hands finally released him. “You’re fine. What you were feeling earlier – that was just phantom limb pain. You were reliving the memory of your body falling apart. A Nobody’s mind must reestablish its connection to the waking world, which is often a tumultuous process. There is fear. Pain. Uncertainty. It will get better when you adjust to your human heart. In the meantime… at least there is always ‘The Trifecta’ to take the edge off. Do you like it? Haloperidol, lorazepam, and diphenhydramine. Wonder drugs.” 

What the hell was he talking about? Saïx didn’t understand a word he was saying. Phantom limb… Reestablishing a connection. Fucking _haloperidol_ -

“Do you feel… less _agitated_ , now, Saïx?” the young man asked, patting his head like a dog. “Less angry? I can add a little fentanyl, if you’d like. I know you love it… A little bird told me that you used to pop oxycodone like candy, back in your Organization days. You’ve probably built up a tolerance, so… I can up the dose. Would you like that? A little opium to calm you down a little? Carry you off on a field of poppy?”

Calm? He didn’t want to be calm.

His fight or flight instincts were on fire. When he was so clearly in danger, Saïx wanted nothing more than to throw off his blankets and run for the hills. The only reason why he was still there, lying motionless in that bed, was that thinking through any course of action whatsoever was like wading through a waist-deep pool of thick, black tar. By the time he’d made any noticeable progress whatsoever, he’d already forgotten where he was going. 

From something as complex as piecing together what that man had told him, to something as simple as moving his arm, there was a disconnect somewhere along the path from thought to action. 

“Look at those wild eyes…” the young man cooed. “Maybe you need another dose of The Trifecta, too.” 

Oh, gods no…

He had to get out of there. Focusing all of his mental faculties, Saïx tried calling for Xemnas, the only one who could help him, at that point, but the only noise he could make was a weak, dying whimper. Time slowed to a standstill. It took him decades just to roll over and grip his fingers around the side of the bed. But even when he’d gotten that far, Saïx realized that he just didn’t have the strength to drag his body over the edge.

He felt so heavy.

“Now, now… None of that.” 

The young man whom Saïx couldn’t see placed a hand on his chest and shoved him back. The hand felt thin and bony, delicate like paper, and yet the boy overpowered him with ease. Even Saïx couldn’t overcome the intensity of those sedatives. 

“Shh… Relax. Just close your eyes and take a little nap. There’s going to be some nice supper waiting for you when you wake up. And you won’t make a mess of things, will you? No… You wouldn’t want another dose of The Trifecta,” the boy warned. “You really wouldn’t. From what I know about you… you like the feeling of being in control, don’t you, Saïx? Well… if I shoot you up with another dose of this, you will instead feel like… how do I describe it. Like you’ve been lobotomized, basically.” 

He felt sick. 

The only reason why he tried to repress the urge to vomit at all was because he knew there was another needle in that room full of _something_ to make him stop. 

“Like someone would’ve cracked open your skull and cut a nice, clean line straight down the middle. You’ll be nice, and calm, and quiet for a week – maybe ten days, until it wears off. Oh, yes. Everything will be fine in your world, when you’re not thinking about a thing. I’ll look into those pretty green eyes and… there won’t be anything going on in there. Nothing but elevator music. Sitting in an empty room and being perfectly content, watching the paint dry. You don’t want that, do you? Will you be good for me?” 

He couldn’t respond. All he could do was squeeze his eyes shut and _shudder_. Though he would have agreed to just about anything at that point. Everybody had their limits.

Axel never wanted to lose a friend, Xemnas would sacrifice anything and anyone for his ambitions, and Saïx? He didn’t want to loosen his grip on reality. 

He couldn’t nod or respond to the affirmative, and yet somehow, the boy knew that he’d agreed. 

“That’s it… I always knew you were a smart cookie.”

A deep, accented voice, belonging to the other man who possessed big, crushing hands, echoed through the room. “You should work on your bedside manner,” he scolded. “Look at him. He’s terrified.”

“If he pisses the bed, I’m not cleaning it up,” muttered the second, deep voice.

“He’s not scared!” argued the young man. “We’re just joking around! Right? You’re not actually scared, are you, Saïx? …Saïx?” 

Even as the threads of consciousness slipped from his fingertips, Saïx was beyond the point of terror. His pupils trembled, and a cold sweat ran down his back. He couldn’t hear anything past the ringing in his ears. Though he could see the young man’s mouth moving – just a formless blur of pink, tan, and white – as his vision was slowly engulfed in blackness, Saïx couldn’t understand a single word. 

…

…

…That same, forsaken dream washed over him like a wave.

He’d never seen Xemnas so despondent. 

No makeup on. Bags under his eyes and a red, angry cut on his jawline, where he’d nicked himself with the edge of his razor. His snow-white hair was sloppy and disheveled, as though he’d raced through the entire castle, sprinting through the halls, just to make his way back to him at the end of the evening. To say goodbye and to put on his little, bronze mask before greeting the end of the world with a smile. Oh, he was still handsome without it, of course – but Xemnas could have suffered full-body, third degree burns, and Saïx would have still thought the world of him. That great giant of a man, however, was noticeably agitated, sinking down onto their shared bed with a sigh so somber it shook his very spirit, sucking the air from his lungs. 

He didn’t say a word, and neither did Xemnas. 

They only sat in silence, side by side, watching smoke creep under their doorway as their little house came burning down. 

Xemnas removed his gloves, and Saïx did, too. The distinctive weight of Xemnas’s hand settled over his own. Though he always looked like nothing short of the perfect gentleman, his hands were calloused from all the hours of tireless training. It was a feeling that he’d never forget, even when their pillows and their blankets burned away into nothing but ash and smoldering dust. Slowly, as though he knew it would be for the very last time, Xemnas wove their fingers together, one by one. 

“When did Luxord pass?” Saïx asked – and only then did he catch a glimpse of Xemnas’s golden eyes, glancing back at him. But once they made eye contact, he just couldn’t look away.

“Forty-two minutes ago. He fought bravely, until the very end.”

“I see.” There wasn’t any time to mourn when the abyss of death crept ever closer. A sickening moment passed when Saïx thought to himself, almost by instinct, that he needed to inform Axel of Luxord’s defeat – until he remembered that there was no Axel, anymore. Now, it was just him and Xemnas. Just the two of them, side by side. Gods, what was he going to do? “Then it won’t be much longer, now.” 

“No. It won’t be.” Xemnas hand clamped down upon him, tighter than a vice – his fingernails, pressing deep, dark crescents into his palm. He didn’t struggle. “Saïx… though it pains me, terribly, to do so, I must ask you to make a terrible sacrifice.”

He didn't have to say it; Saïx wasn't stupid. Kingdom Hearts wasn't nearly complete, and with Sora, adding fuel to the fire, what they needed, more than anything, was time. If Xigbar couldn't bring him down, then Saïx's odds, too, were slim. He wasn't going to play the dashing hero so much as he would... the scapegoat. 

He would be sent to his death for the sole purpose of stalling Sora's inevitable advance for as long as he possibly could. What Xemnas wanted to ask of him was nothing short of suicide.

“You don’t have to ask anything of me. ...I volunteer. Gladly.” Though the dread and terror of death hung over him like a guillotine, Saïx spoke with feigned purpose, praying that his voice wouldn’t waver. “Sora will not reach you while I still stand.”

“I will not deceive you. There is a high probability that you will not return from this battle. You could very well die,” Xemnas explained, as though he were trying to talk him _out_ of it, than into it. In truth, Saïx didn’t understand just what he was attempting to accomplish at that moment – though perhaps that was just love at its very finest: nonsense, hypocrisy, and emotionally-induced momentary blindness. 

“From the moment we gain awareness and come into existence as individuals, our time is limited. Everybody dies. Not all are fortunate enough to have the opportunity to lay down their lives for anything of significance in the slightest. Much less, for somebody that they… love.” He felt like a fool, just uttering that word aloud, and yet it felt so good, so incredibly freeing, that, despite the embarrassment, Saïx didn’t regret a single thing. “If I should fall, then I want you to complete Kingdom Hearts and live your life proudly, as a complete being.”

“Oh, but I could never be complete without you.”

It was so sickeningly melodramatic that Saïx couldn’t help but smile – both at the phrase itself and at how unreasonably, intolerably wonderful it made him feel, even on his deathbed.

“Is this where you claim that you will never take another lover?”

“I swear it – though I would rather you returned to me alive and well. Do fight to the best of your ability, Saïx. I observed your practice sessions with Xaldin and Luxord; you are quite a formidable opponent, regardless of what the others may have thought of you.”

“If I survive, perhaps we should truly put that strength to the test. You and I should duel, for once,” he teased, knowing full well that he could never win.

“Do not expect me to take such a challenge lightly. I never hold back, Saïx. Not even against the one that I love.” 

…And there it was.

Xemnas spoke so fluently, without a moment’s hesitation or a single, unnatural, stuttering inflection.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” Saïx scolded, though not unkindly. “I will soon be forced to walk to the gallows. You’re going to shatter my resolve.”

“Use those words, instead, as inspiration to return home safely.”

A resounding crash echoed below them, and Saïx knew that he couldn’t delay himself any longer. His summer vacation had finally come to a close. Though his knees were weak with fear, he forced himself to stand and face the future with his head held high. 

Perhaps he could emerge victorious, after all, when in the end, the source of Sora's strength and his was one and the same. They risked their lives, not entirely, for lofty ambitions or intangible goals, for Kingdom Hearts or for the sake of closing it. They served, instead, as the sword and shield for the people who were dearest to them. Xemnas’s dreams and his hopes for the future rested on his shoulders – just as Sora surely felt the weight of Riku and Kairi, standing on his. 

Sora relied on his friends for strength, but Saïx was strong from the very beginning – all Xemnas gave him was purpose. Absolving the curse of that intolerable apathy. For _him_ , even the self-serving tactician of Organization XIII, who never so much as set foot on the battlefield when there were pawns he could send in his place, could summon the strength to carry himself as a proper warrior. 

For good or for ill.

…So, when Sora came to him with that keyblade, glinting dangerously in the moonlight, Saïx dared to stand tall in the face of certain death. He wondered what Roxas would have thought of him, then – watching helplessly from within Sora’s heart as the cold and callous Number VII agreed to a battle that he simply couldn’t win. 

Saïx stared into Sora’s deep, blue eyes and thought he’d caught a glimmer of horrid recognition. Struck silent, his mind rushed back to the scar that he’d sustained from their previous battle… and he couldn’t help but smile. 

“Different name, same fate.”

Saïx didn’t know just whom he had intended to address.


	7. Chapter 7

According to Zexion’s testimony, Saïx had fallen unconscious for a solid nine hours after the injection, waking up right on time for dinner and a show. Perfect timing, or so he’d said. Nine hours were just long enough to emerge from chemical stasis perfectly rested, if the data in his medical journals were to be believed. On the contrary, however - Saïx had never felt so terrible. He felt as though he’d slept for a thousand years. Cursed to lie back and close his eyes through the end of the world, he lay helpless as the centuries passed him by, dragging on for years as his body sank into the alkaline mud, calcifying his bones and spreading into his flesh, turning it black, sticky, and solid. A living mummy, buried beneath the peat.

Saïx stared down at his hand and willed it to move, commanding himself to shift his finger along the armrest of his wheelchair. As if trying to overcompensate for his hand’s paralysis, his wrist twitched: an uncontrollable, violent spasm that lasted only for a split second, until even those minute muscles, too, gave out in exhaustion. 

That simple movement alone left him drained, gasping for breath. 

He heard laughter, echoing behind him. Zexion must have found his suffering all incredibly amusing. Humming a vapid little tune, the boy walked circles around him like a bird of prey, until he stopped to look into his eyes. Slowly, he waved a hand across his face. Up and down, side to side. 

“I see your pupils moving. The lights are on,” he muttered, “But as to whether anybody’s home… well, isn’t that the question of the hour?”

Somehow, by a sheer force of will, Saïx coordinated all of his muscles into one, focused movement. Lurching forward and grasping weakly at Zexion’s arm, he dragged it down and away from his face. A move that he would sincerely regret. Sliding his bare skin against Zexion’s lab coat felt more akin to grinding up against a belt sander. Hypersensitive, even the softest touch was agonizing. Anywhere Saïx’s skin made contact with anything at all – the wheelchair, his clothing, the ends of his hair - felt… raw. Almost as though somebody had dragged a fruit peeler across his body, sloughing off the skin in soft, dangling ribbons, exposing throbbing muscle. 

Gods, it hurt.

“Oh, look at that!” Zexion remarked, smiling down at him with patronizing fondness, as though he were a particularly fascinating specimen, swimming beneath the lens of his microscope. “Such a swift recovery. I didn’t expect that brain of yours to broadcast anything but static for another three hours, at the very least. Saïx… You don’t have a tolerance to lorazepam, do you?” The boy accused with a dramatic, horrified gasp, clutching at nonexistent pearls – and yet despite his tone, Zexion’s smile grew ever wider. “Popping benzodiazepines as well as narcotics… You are so shameless! Well, don’t worry. We’ll get you weaned off of all those nasty pills sooner or later. And by ‘weaning,’ what I intend to say, of course, is that you’re going to quit cold turkey. At your stage of addiction, expect to experience mind-warping, soul-crushing anxiety, followed by projectile vomiting and intense diarrhea. I know that it sounds awful, but just try think of it like Purgatory. Walking the straight and narrow path through the valley of death, burning away your sins to become a better, brighter you. Goodbye, Saïx. Hello, Isa.”

Saïx shivered. He had to escape, somehow. Listening to Zexion talk about… _gods_ he didn’t even know what – but whatever it was, it didn’t sound good. “Soul-crushing anxiety…” He wasn’t going to survive something like that, especially when Zexion had made it perfectly clear that he intended to shove him off the edge with no forethought given to cushioning his inevitable, hurtling crash from orbit. 

He was supposed to have died fighting – for honor and glory, for king and castle. Choking to death on his own vomit was never part of Saïx life’s plan. Knowing his efforts were futile, he braced his palms on the wheelchair’s armrests and tried, fruitlessly, to stand, all the same. He just didn’t have the mental faculties to realize that it was wiser to bide his time and plan a proper escape. 

“None of that, now,” Zexion scolded, toppling his efforts with a gentle push. “There’s nothing to be afraid about. You’ll be fine, when I’ll be watching over you during your recovery. No matter what happens, you won’t die, Isa. No… No, no, you’ll just wish that you could. That’s what you get for taking five pills a day when the bottle clearly says two, I suppose.”

The pain pills… He swallowed hard around the suffocating lump in his dry, scratchy throat. “W-Who… told you about –”

“Your nasty little habit?” Zexion finished in his place, tilting his head. “Nobody, actually. I figured it out myself, when you startled half-awake a few days ago, after almost a week of pure unconsciousness. Wincing and crying from the pain as your body stitched itself back together again. Normally, five milligrams of IV morphine does the trick to soothe those raw, angry nerves. It did for Aeleus and Dilan, anyway, but even double the dose didn’t do a single thing for you. You’ve built up quite a tolerance, Isa. I had to treat you like a hospice patient just to keep you from biting off your tongue under my supervision.”

What was he talking about? What tolerance? Saïx’s mind wandered back to the pills. Honestly, it didn’t seem like that many: just one or two a day, perhaps four at best. He needed something to dull the pain; that, in and of itself, couldn’t be denied. It wasn’t anything unorthodox, considering the fact that he’d never truly recovered from the muscle and nerve damage that Roxas had inflicted upon him during their fateful battle. 

…Had he?

In truth, Saïx had never know whether his wounds had fully healed or not. He had no baseline on which to gauge the severity of his injuries when, to his knowledge, he was the only member of their Organization who had fought a keyblade wielder with the full intention to kill or be killed - and who actually lived to tell the tale. Walking away by the skin of his teeth.

Xemnas was the one who had brought him those pills in the first place, afterwards: to soothe the pain that he could never quite hide and to blunt the emotional trauma of having been so effortlessly crushed by a _child_ , of all people. Despite Saïx’s shame and his horrid unworthiness, Xemnas took care of him. When Saïx couldn’t swallow, he crushed the pills and put them into his liquor or his soup, spoon-feeding him like an invalid. As strange as it was, the first three days after his bitter defeat were some of the best moments of his life – but it wasn’t because of some nonexistent addiction. It was all attributed to _him_. Everything good and pure in his life, anything worth protecting, began and ended with Xemnas. With the man he could gladly call his Superior watching over him, he didn’t have to worry about Roxas, or Axel - or _her_. He could barely remember her face anymore. He’d forgotten her smile and the sound of her voice – the warmth of her hand on his cheek and the way she called his name, as though offering oblation to the heavens, themselves. He had the memory, but even as a human, he no longer had the qualia. With Xemnas, he could forget. When they were together, everything was so undeniably right with the world. He felt so precious, so pure, so _perfect_ that he could just stop caring about all of the petty things in life that he couldn’t change. For the first time in his life, Saïx was content to just… be. 

Nothing that wonderful could ever be attributed to something as base and as meaningless as a few little pills, running in his bloodstream.

Zexion must have sensed his confusion. 

With a reluctant shake of his head, he looked down at him with a sad little smile. “I guess Dilan was right, and I need to work on my bedside manner, after all. Look… I don’t know if you’ve realized this or not, but somewhere down the line, you developed a physical and mental dependence to codeine derivatives.” 

“That’s… not possible. It was only four pills a day at the very most.”

“What was the strength?”

“ _I don’t know_ ,” Saix hissed, eager to defend himself for some asinine reason that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. All he knew was that he didn’t appreciate Zexion’s implications, and he didn’t like his line of questioning. “Xemnas managed everything. I only took what he provided.”

A strange look fell over Zexion’s face – though he didn’t say a single word. The seconds dragged on like centuries, and yet the boy remained still, eyes wide and piercing. 

“I see,” he answered at last, dropping that callous yet playful tone to adopt something entirely serious. A professionalism, developed well beyond his years. “It’s too bad that Xemnas isn’t here to answer my questions, then – for I have many. For what it’s worth, though… I was just joking earlier, Isa. I didn’t mean what I said about leaving you in the cold to struggle through withdrawal without a helping hand. I don’t toy with people’s lives like that anymore. I’m the new me. The _better_ me. Everything will be alright. …So you can stop looking so terrified. Okay?”

He should have been grateful, or, at the very least, just relieved that Zexion didn’t intend to torture him, but when Saïx slowly regained control over his body, the first and only thing he could do was bury his face in his trembling palm, wiping away the sweat on his brow and shielding his eyes from the glaring sunset. 

“I know that it doesn’t seem logical that anything could ever be right with the world again when you feel so awful,” Zexion continued, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze, “But it will get better. Come on – let’s get some food in you, and I’ll explain everything. I’ll explain it as many times as you want me to, until it really sinks in.”

Too tired to fight, Saïx didn’t put up a resistance, even when Zexion wheeled him down the familiar halls of Ansem’s old mansion. Though whether he was being wheeled away to a simple dinner or a gruesome death, truly, Saïx didn’t know. He wouldn’t have had the strength to fight him off, either way. 

The moment he entered the kitchen, Saïx recoiled, assaulted by the nauseating, pungent smell of… _something_. Isolated in the corner stood two more familiar faces. Lexaeus and Xaldin stood over an overflowing stew pot, arguing amongst each other over what to else add and how long to simmer to their lethal concoction. Bile bubbled within Saïx’s stomach, threatening his shoot up his throat with a vengeance. 

“Here, take this,” Zexion offered, holding out a little pill. “It’ll help with the nausea. It dissolves, which is nice. Sorry to say it tastes like strawberry, though; I know you would’ve preferred menthol or black licorice. Something bitter, old, and joyless… just like you.” 

Hilarious. 

Grumbling, he knocked the pill from Zexion’s hand, sending it tumbling down to the kitchen floor. After the incident with the injection, he didn’t trust that boy to speak transparently to him about anything. Sighing, Zexion threw the pill in the trash before pushing him to the table and locking the gears on his wheelchair, so he wouldn’t be able to roll himself down the hallway and right out the window in the most ill-planned, desperate escape of the century. 

“Are you still angry about the sedatives?” Zexion asked, as if slapping his hand away weren’t a powerful enough message, in its own right.

Of course Saïx was still angry; who wouldn’t be? He took a deep breath as he reminded himself to stay civil. “I fear that I still don’t understand why you felt the need to… what did you say – _lobotomize_ me.” 

“The way you were thrashing about, you were going to dislocate your shoulder. I had to give you something, but I swear on my professionalism that I meant you no harm. Believe me when I say that I want you to be happy here. You’re a patient of mine, after all; I want you to recovery quickly. To grow healthy and strong. Speaking of building up your strength,” he continued, waving over his to two compatriots, “That body of yours hasn’t eaten anything more than tube fed enteral nutrition in a _very_ long time. So, I hope you like curry – though even if you don’t, you should still eat it. Okay? You need the nutrients.”

When Saïx didn’t respond, Zexion only sighed, misinterpreting his pensive silence for mere petulance. “Or you can be stubborn and eat nothing, and we can make something that you’d prefer tomorrow. You’ll have to fill in the blanks, though. To be honest, your likes and dislikes are a mystery to me. Maybe we can be better friends, this time around. So… let’s get to know each other a little bit, shall we? My favorite food is actually instant noodles. They sustained me while I studied, and thus elicit positive emotions associated with my past. Though, in recent years, I’ve tried to cut out such unnecessary, empty calories from my diet – but what do you like, Saïx? What’s your favorite food?”

It was something that Xemnas had made for him, once, when he was bedbound and helpless. Sitting by his side, dressed in nothing but his pajamas, Xemnas spoon-fed him a simple, vegetable soup that reminded him of when he was a child. Running home after a long day of playing heroes and explorers with Lea, he’d sit down at the table, and his mother would kiss him on the forehead, and... what did she look like? 

Saïx couldn’t remember her, either. Forgetting all of the important women in his life.

All he knew was that Xemnas’s soup made him feel as innocent as he did, all those years ago, when he was six years old, with scrapes on his knees. 

“I don’t particularly enjoy anything,” he lied.

“…Oh. Well, I guess I don’t know what else I was really expecting to hear out of you, but you don’t have to be so stiff,” Zexion sighed, sad and dejected. “It’s okay to have preferences, you know. It’s only human.” 

“We’re not human.”

Zexion looked like he was just dying to say something, but before he could even open his mouth, Lexaeus and Xaldin came stomping over. 

“Having no preferences makes it easy for me,” Lexaeus commented, as he slid a steaming bowl of napalm across the table. Saïx drew away at the smell, pressing himself into the back of his wheelchair as far as he possible could. Lexaeus barked out a joyless, mocking laugh. “I thought you said you don’t care what you eat. If that’s true, then stop your sniveling.”

Oh, but he wasn’t “sniveling.” His eyes were watering in a natural, biological reflex brought about by prolonged exposure to a toxic cloud. Not that Saïx was going to waste his breath arguing over semantics. There was no reasoning with someone like Lexeaus – more muscle and bone than logic and reason. So instead, wordlessly, Saïx waited in suffocated silence, holding his breath, as his companions joined him around the table. 

Together, they were four: just Saïx and three ghosts. 

Zexion flashed him a charming smile as he pushed the little, steaming bowl of curry dangerously close to the edge of the table. Saïx wasn’t certain whether he wanted to encourage him to eat, or whether he actually intended to send that piping hot bowl hurtling onto his lap. Though perhaps he wouldn’t have even felt a thing, when his legs were still made of a strange, awkward combination of lead and rubber, all at once. 

Lexaeus and Xaldin were already digging in, as ravenous as Saïx remembered them. Determining that he wouldn’t touch his “food,” Lexaeus reached for Saïx’s bowl to add his portion to his own, only to be met with an unexpectantly violent slap from Zexion – the one who was clearly in charge of the lab, despite his age. 

“You should eat, Isa,” the boy encouraged him. “You’ll get sick if you don’t. That body of yours isn’t as strong as the one you’re that accustomed to.”

“What do you mean ‘this body?’” he hissed, shoving the bowl away. “To be frank, I don’t feel particularly inclined to eat anything, at the moment. All that I want is for you to tell me where I am, why I am here, who _you_ are, and –”

“You really don’t remember who I am?” Zexion interjected with a quick, forced laugh. “We worked together for over ten years. I know that I was a bit quieter than I am now, but did you really forget me? …It’s _me_ , Saïx. You know – Zexion. Though I do prefer to go by Ienzo, now.”

“I don’t understand. You were eliminated in Castle Oblivion.”

“That’s right. I _was_ eliminated,” Zexion, or rather, _Ienzo_ replied – as though he weren’t just admitting to his own death. Smiling, the boy placed a firm, steadying hand on Saïx’s knee. “But so were you. Outplayed and overpowered, all thirteen of us faded away, believing that defeat spelt the end of our existences. But for a Nobody, there is life after death - perhaps not in a religious sense, like Heaven or Hell - but more like… reincarnation. As a phoenix rises from its ashes, so, too, shall we. With our Heartless and Nobodies destroyed, our newly released hearts may find their way back to their respective bodies. Does that make sense? We’re _us_ again, Saïx. Xemnas was wrong; we didn’t need Kingdom Hearts to become whole, after all.”

No. No, that _didn’t_ make sense. That was the most ham-fisted, absurd explanation for anything that Saïx had ever heard in his entire life. More than that however, Saix wanted to argue just one little point -

“That’s not possible. Xemnas is _never_ wrong.”

He’d blurted that out before he’d even thought it through. He must have sounded pathetic. Ienzo sat there, slowly shaking his head, as though Saïx had confessed to having terminal cancer instead of faith in someone he cared for. 

“Oh, yes. At the end of the day, everything boils down to Xemnas, doesn’t it? I’ve heard about this, too. How very unfortunate. According to Lea, beneath that frosty demeanor, you’re the fiercely loyal type, aren’t you? Or blindly loyal, depending on how you want to look at it.”

Ignoring the insult, Saïx focused in one only one word: _Lea_. Was Lea somewhere in the mansion? But if so, then where was he? Surely, he would have come to provide moral support the moment he’d heard the news that Saïx had awakened. Though they’d parted on less than savory terms, when push came to shove, they were still friends. If Ienzo spoke the truth, if they were given another lease on life, as humans, with proper hearts and proper identities, then surely, they would want to spend the remainder of those lives together. 

…Wouldn’t they?

Mistaking his horrified silence for simple confusion, Ienzo flashed him a reassuring smile, gently stroking his knee. “Lea regained consciousness shortly after Aeleus did – and you better believe he told me everything. Repeated it twice, too, just to make sure I had ‘gotten it memorized.’ He told me about your history, your disagreements – and about you, throwing your lot in with Xemnas, of all people.”

“Where is he?”

“Xemnas or Axel?” Ienzo asked, somehow sensing that Saïx didn’t know just whom he was truly asking after. Calling him out on his apprehension. 

“Both,” he answered, instead, refusing to choose a side for the time-being.

“Xemnas wasn’t here when I awoke, so either he regained consciousness long before me, which I doubt, or perhaps his body was never here in the first place. I’m sorry, but that’s all the information I have about your knight in black armor. I have to ask, though,” he continued with a playful yet innocent smile, “If you’re the prince and Xemnas is your knight, then what part does Axel play in this story of yours?” 

What was Axel? An insensitive, bumbling ogre who was completely oblivious to the world around him - that’s what.

“Why do you assume that I’m waiting for someone to rescue me?”

“Well, you’re clearly not doing anything on your own,” Ienzo replied, clearly unconvinced of Saïx’s independence. “Granted, it’s only a bachelor’s, but I do have a degree in psychology. You’ve always been more of a follower than a leader, Saïx. Though there’s certainly nothing wrong with that. We can’t all be like Xemnas and Axel, dropping everything to charge off blindly into the darkness, shouting out our revolutionary ideals for all to hear.”

“Is that where Axel has gone? Did he ‘run off into the darkness?’”

“I guess you can say that. Predictably, and against my _many_ warnings, he went off in search of Roxas one day and simply never came back.” 

“And was my body in the basement when he left?” Saïx asked, though he was so, irrationally offended by that notion that his question was barely comprehensible through that miserable snarl. 

“Calm down… It wasn’t as though he trampled over your unconsciousness body on his way out the door. He apologized for everything that happened in Castle Oblivion and begged me to look after you once you awoke. You know, to stop you from doing anything reckless.” 

“Said the pot, with regards to the kettle.”

“Oh, that was what I said. But Axel always was a bit of a hypocrite, wasn’t he? Once that man makes up his mind, there’s simply no stopping him.”

“And what of me? Am I expected to remain here in this castle like a _dog_ while Axel is running off on a suicide mission and Xemnas is nowhere to be found?”

“Please don’t leave,” Ienzo begged, so exasperated that he sounded, at that moment, more like a wise old man than a boy, barely in his twenties. “I know you’re worried about Xemnas, and I know that it makes you angry to think that Axel left you here to look for Roxas, but honestly, just what are you planning to do, Isa? Where would you go? You’re an ordinary human, now. You have no magic, no special abilities. Just stay here and wait for Axel. He promised to come back after finding Roxas. Focus on resting and building up your strength, for now.” 

As Ienzo reached for his soup spoon, however, Saïx slammed his hands down on the table and pushed himself up, though in the end, he couldn’t even make it out of the wheelchair. Before he could even fully stand, he lurched forward, losing his balance, still dizzy from whatever Ienzo had injected into him. 

“Hey!” Ienzo scolded, steadily lowering him back down into his chair. “Did you listen to a word I just said?”

“I… refuse,” Saïx insisted. “I can’t dither about in this castle, waiting for companions who may very well never return.” 

Ienzo stared back at him in sheer disbelief. 

“If you leave this place, _you_ are the one who will never return. Not because you’ve found your friends but because you’ll be six feet under the earth, feeding the maggots.” Sighing, he pushed back his bangs and rested his head against his palm. “What if I send a message to Lea asking him to come back _now_? You know - since your body has awoken, but clearly, a piece of your mind has been left behind in the void, leaving you beyond the reach of rational thought?” he argued, offering a compromise. “Can you at least promise to stay here until we hear a response?”

“To what end? Do you actually believe, in the slightest, that Axel would ever deign to return for me?” …Saïx didn’t know what was wrong with him. He never would have lashed out like that in The World That Never Was, but that body, that _heart_ , fluttering in his chest – it was almost as though the mere mention of Axel had broken his floodgates. He couldn’t patch up the cracks quite as quickly as they opened. Out came the deluge. “Axel confessed to everything, correct?” He didn’t even wait to hear an answer. “Then you must know that he has abandoned me for Roxas not once but _twice_ , at this point. Clearly, I was never a priority. It doesn’t matter whether I wait one week or one _decade_ \- he wouldn’t come back for me, even if I were on my deathbed.” 

Ienzo sighed, overcome with worry, as he shot a concerned glare at Aeleus.

“It’s not as if he doesn’t care about you,” Ienzo tried to explain, though he stumbled over his words, spoken so uncertainly that they lacked any lingering impact whatsoever. “He just has… other, more pressing ‘concerns’ at the moment. But do you know what? While I know that Lea isn’t religious – not in the slightest – before he left, he clasped his hands and prayed over your body. He prayed for your safety and your happiness. He cares – that is an undeniable truth. If I tell Lea that the situation is urgent, I’m sure he’ll come back to check on you.” 

“He’s right,” Dilan answered, contrasting his colleague’s uncertainty with a firm nod. “Lea left this castle thinking that you would be safe when you awoke. If we give him the impression that you’re actually considering leaving this place, or that something had happened to you, he’d come running back in no time.”

“Comforting the likes of me?” Saïx couldn’t help but scoff, shooting Dilan a scathing smirk. “What happened to you?”

“I found my heart,” Dilan answered, smooth and natural, as though he couldn’t wait to be rid of his identity as a Nobody. “Don’t get me wrong – I always thought you were an insufferable, shameless little sycophant, and I still do. I always knew you were sucking cock to get to the top, and Lea’s stories about you and Xemnas proved me right. …I just didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to believe the old ‘Superior’ ever gave a damn about you. Falling for that garbage? That right there? That’s pitiful. You are a sad, little man, and I would never claim to be a friend of yours, Isa, but I am not about to let you risk your life, running after that wanker. Especially not after I promised Lea I’d keep my eye on you. He really does care about you, you know – not that I could ever imagine why. Either way, it’d break his heart, if you left for _Xemnas_ of all people. Just be a good boy and stay here. Keep your head out of trouble.”

“I promised to protect you, too,” Aeleus added. “And I will. You are not going anywhere. Even if I have to break your legs to keep you from running.”

“We’re not breaking anybody’s legs!” Ienzo argued, though all with a laugh. “You’ll stay here because we’re such good company, because the food is so good, and because soon, Axel will be coming back for you.”

“You just have to be patient,” Dilan added – and the way that trio looked at him, with pitying yet sincere smiles, made bile rise up in the pit of his stomach. “I know you parted on a sour note, but Lea talked about you like you were his best mate. We’ll send the message, tonight. But in the meantime, you really should eat something. You don’t want to be nothing but skin and bones by the time your hero arrives, do you? You don’t want to make him worry.”

…No. He didn’t. 

Until recently, Saïx had given up on Axel completely, but the way those three were talking about him with such fondness and admiration, testifying so readily to the strength his character, was enough to spark just a little, withering flame of hope deep within him. Maybe Axel would come back, after all. Though he wasn’t hungry, by imaging the horror on Axel’s face if he saw him, weak and emaciated, Saïx could force himself to eat. 

Until one last thought wormed its way into his mind.

“What about Xemnas?” he asked, suddenly.

“He’ll be fine,” Ienzo reassured. “Even as a human, the man you call Xemnas was strong and wise. A capable man of many talents. Even if he wakes up alone in the middle of a desert, I think he can survive a few weeks without you nagging at him to eat his vegetables and wash behind his ears. But Lea? You know how he is. If he ever found out that you ran off alone, with no magic and no weapon, looking for Xemnas, can you even imagine the whirlwind of trouble he’d cause?”

Oh, he could picture it, alright: broken bones and forest fires.

“That’s right –” Ienzo continued, as though he’d sensed Saïx’s agreement, even when nothing was said. “He’d panic and dig his own grave just from looking for you. But if you stay here, he’ll come home, you can look for Roxas together, and everything will be fine. I know it’s not what you want, really, but… it’s better than nothing, isn’t it?”

In truth, Saïx didn’t know. He was tired, lost, and confused. At the very least, waiting for Axel would give him the time he needed to collect his thoughts. 

“Perhaps it is.”

It was with a flicker of hope for the future that Saïx condemned himself to imprisonment within the walls of Radiant Garden, waiting for a man that he still, undeniably, cared for, even after all that time and everything that had happened between them. He wasn’t expecting anything for the first three days, but after a week had passed, he’d at least expected a letter. But then one week shifted to two, and Saïx could sense Ienzo’s uncertainty. He’d sent another letter, even when Saïx told him not to bother. Two weeks turned to three. Summer waned to fall with the turning of the seasons, turning bright, verdant green into a gradient of gold and crimson.

He wasn’t about to wait for winter. 

Saïx had always been the most diligent and hardworking member of Organization XIII: always the first to rise and the last to retire to his chambers in the evenings. Thus, when he awoke long before sunrise, sneaking out of the castle with a full satchel, prepared for the adventure of a lifetime – or perhaps a slow and gruesome death – he hadn’t anticipated being stopped at the gate. 

“Going somewhere?” Dilan asked, leaning against the barricade.

“Were you anticipating my departure?” he asked. It was suspicious for someone like him to have been awake at that hour.

“I’ve been ‘anticipating’ it for a while, now. I’m actually surprised it took you this long,” Dilan chuckled, as he pushed himself away from the gate. “It was about ten days ago that Aeleus and I agreed to start taking turns watching the exits. Figured you’d get impatient and storm off in a huff. But look at you, waiting this long. The model of restraint.”

“And assuming that I did ‘lose my patience,’ did the two of you agree to stop me by force?”

Even without their weapons, Dilan and Aeleus were imposing. They had a solid, twenty-five centimeter height advantage over him, at the very least, and Saïx couldn’t even estimate how much heavier they must have been. Throwing a punch at those behemoths would have been like slamming his knuckles against a solid, brick wall. 

“That was what we discussed,” Dilan answered. “You try and set one dainty little foot outside of this city, and I’m supposed to snap it at the ankle and drag you back, kicking and screaming. So – what do you say, Isa? You want to give it a go?”

Saïx’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say a single word. Instead, he merely watched the giant’s movements, searching for a chink in his armor. A temporary moment of carelessness.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” Dilan continued. “I’ll admit that you did a number on me back when we trained together in the Organization, but you’re not so tough without that claymore. If you leave Radiant Garden and get cornered by Heartless or, hell, even some thug with a rusty pocketknife and a chip on his shoulder, you’re a dead man. You’re not a berserker, anymore. Now, you’re nothing more than an accountant and a _cocksucker_. So why don’t you get your pale little arse back into the laboratory and go back to sleep?”

He bristled at the insult –

“A thug with a pocketknife could kill us both,” he echoed, as he twirled open the antique balisong that he’d stolen from Ansem’s old collection. It wasn’t an ideal weapon. Relying upon nothing more than muscle memory, Saïx spun the blade into a reverse grip, mimicking his stance with his claymore. “That thick neck won’t stop you from bleeding out when I sever your arteries.”

Dilan paused for a moment, staring back at him in disbelief. 

“Are you _mad_?” 

Oh, he wasn’t. Not as though Saïx would have denied it, when “lunacy” was his fighting style from the start. His near-suicidal courage at the moment, however, was nothing more than a bluff. Saïx never had the skill to make precision strikes. When he fought, he relied on his ability to expend his strength quickly, overpowering his foes and reducing them to ash and rubble. He missed often and wasted energy, but it got the job done. Wasting a nuke on killing a cockroach. 

But he couldn’t afford to rely upon such careless movements when he’d been robbed of his strength and otherworldly energy. If Dilan so much as put up a resistance, Saïx was finished. 

…And so he had to bluff.

“Move aside!” he shouted, his voice, echoing through the crisp, morning air with all the rage and fury that he summoned during combat, back when he was an unstoppable force to be reckoned with. 

The goliath _flinched_.

Saïx could see it flash through his eyes: memories of their past training sessions, the burn of blue fire and the nauseating _crack_ of steel, crushing bone. Xaldin had taken a week-long leave of absence after their duel. 

Surely, the afterburn of those injuries hadn’t faded. He could see him struggling, mentally, considering whether or not he actually wanted to pick a fight. Finally, however, perhaps against Saïx’s expectations, Dilan relented. 

“Alright! Fine,” he growled, spitting at the ground in disgust. “Have it your way, just like you always do. But I’m done with you – do you hear me, Isa? Don’t you dare come crawling back to this castle starving, sick, and dying, once you finally get it through that thick skull of yours that you can’t make it on your own. Ienzo is going to hear about this, and you’ll never, ever be welcomed back even if you -”

“By all means, tell him,” Saïx challenged, cutting off Dilan’s angry tirade. “And tell Axel, if he ever returns, that I am beyond finished begging for his table scraps! When I clearly mean so little to him, I don’t see any reason why I should deign to endure another minute of this waking _Hell_. Waiting for a ‘lover’ who wouldn’t so much as pay me a single visit after I _rose from the grave_. I have had enough of him!”

“Well, good riddance!” Dilan taunted, as Saïx stormed past the gate and out into the forest. “Yeah, go on! Walk away! …You and Xemnas deserve each other.” 

When the castle had finally faded away into the background of trees and dimming stars, fading against the light of the morning sun, Saïx finally dared to show his weaknesses, dropping his knife onto the dirt as he leaned against a tree trunk to catch his breath. His body wouldn’t stop trembling. He could feel his pulse pounding through his arteries, his blood, rushing between his ears. 

He pressed his hand against his chest, unable to understand that weak, human heart that couldn’t stand the thought of conflict, even against someone that didn’t mean anything to him at all. For some strange reason that he couldn’t quite pinpoint, the thought of having burned his bridges between himself and the three scientists wrenched at his heart, engulfing it in thorns. 

They weren’t friends, but they were –

Saïx looked up at the sky and never felt so small. It came to him, then, that out of all the trillions of human beings in the universe, populating billions of cities in thousands of planets hurtling through in the dark void of space, he had familiarized himself with only twelve. But now, with Roxas gone, and Axel dead and buried in his heart, and with Ienzo, Dilan, and Aeleus, cutting him off from their circle, Saïx’s little group of twelve had been reduced to a lowly seven. 

And there was never any guarantee that he would see those people ever again. Larxene, Marluxia, Demyx – he wondered what had happened to them. He couldn’t believe it. His first surge of new and foreign emotion in years, for as long as he could remember, and it was loneliness.

For a moment, overcome by fear and uncertainty, Saïx actually considered turning back – until he thought to himself: what of Xemnas? What if he was out there somewhere, lost and afraid, wondering why no one had yet come to rescue _him_? Ienzo had been correct, all along; Saïx wasn’t particularly eager to play the role of the leading man when he could instead provide support from the sidelines, but by heaven and earth, he wasn’t Axel. If Xemnas had written for him, begging him to come, then there wouldn’t have been anything that could have stopped him from rushing to his side. 

It was as simple as that. A difference of devotion.

He had to find him. Finally exiting the forest, Saïx’s plan was to take the train into the city in order to gather information about a way out of their world. It was a decent enough plan, but when he arrived at the station and tried to buy a ticket, Saïx realized something essential to human life that he’d forgotten during his time as a Nobody – 

Money made the world turn – and Saïx didn’t have a penny to his name. What was he going to do? What was he going to eat? Where was he supposed to spend the night? Overcome by anxiety, he tried his best to smother it down and focus on just… buying the ticket. He squinted and took a close, lingering look at the machine, and then it hit him: he didn’t even know which buttons to press. The last time he’d truly taken the time to walk around Radiant Garden, he’d been nothing more than a child. Back then, tickets were still sold by human beings. 

_Please insert credit chit_ , read the flickering screen. 

…What in the world was a credit chit?

He froze, green eyes shifting from the screen down to his empty pocket, as the cold realization began to sink in that if he couldn’t even afford a simple train ticket, if he couldn’t even figure out how to _purchase_ a train ticket, then he was never leaving Radiant Garden. He was just about to turn around and _walk_ those long, cold miles to the city when he heard someone far behind him call his name. 

For a moment, he dared to imagine it was Axel. He closed his eyes and dared to hope, until the voice grew louder, and he recognized that tone. That smooth, shameless confidence, and the drawn out, lingering emphasis on the “X” in his name. 

That voice called out to him. Not to Isa, but to –

“…Saïx.” 

It echoed in rumbling baritone. It was _better_ than Axel. He’d known who it was before he even turned to look, but when he did, that familiar river of warmth and age-old fondness, settled deep within in his bones, came rushing back with a vengeance, crashing over him, as subtle as a hurricane. The world and all of its insignificant people faded from existence. The lights went out and the world stopped spinning, as the universe itself boiled down to just… him. 

It burned away. Frayed and pulled.

The sun and stars turned dim in comparison to the radiance of Xemnas’s smile, blending into the painted, sunflower landscape on the train station wall, shining brighter than morning’s first light. 

Saïx parted his lips to speak, but at the very last moment, his breath hitched, and he couldn’t make a single sound. 

“There you are,” Xemnas crooned, smothering the silence. His soft, gentle tone reverberated with dignified, barely concealed excitement and joy, as though they’d been playing a simple game of hide and seek in the alleys of Radiant Garden. “…I’ve been searching for you since the very first day I awakened. I will admit that, at times, trekking across scorching desert sands and snow-capped mountaintops tested the strength of my will, but I knew, somehow, that if I only believed and persevered, I would find my way back to you again.” 

He should have said something. 

A thousand words raced before his mind’s eye, though the more Saïx truly thought upon it, the more he realized that all the words sprawling thousands of languages, speaking of the purest hope, and faith, and gratitude, could never come together in just the right combination to convey exactly what he’d felt at that very moment. 

His hand hovered mere millimeters from Xemnas’s chest. Irrational as it was, Saïx couldn’t help but imagine that the moment he touched him, the illusion would break, and all of that light and overwhelming warmth would dissipate right back into those painted sunflowers, disappearing without a single trace. But when he ran his fingertips over Xemnas’s collarbone, he knew that he was real. He pulled his hand back, only to press it over his mouth, masking that intolerable, uncontrollable smile. 

When he blinked, warm, gentle tears ran over his fingertips. Xemnas caught them quickly, sliding off his leather glove to stroke his cheek. Though he should have been ashamed of himself, Saïx couldn’t help but lean into the firm weight of Xemnas’s touch. 

He must have made an awful sight – chuckling and crying. It was that body… that weak, human heart that made him realize that the so-called love and devotion that he’d felt for Xemnas during their time together as Nobodies was nothing but a shadow. A single drop of water, melted from thousand-year-ice, that had trickled down his veins to send a single ripple echoing through his soul. Only now did it come rushing back as a tidal wave.

It was everything he’d remembered it to be and more: the genuine article. The memory and the qualia. 

“I can’t believe you came.”

“I only apologize for my tardiness. I should have known that you would have returned to the place where it all began. I should have known better.”

Saïx looked up at him through a veil of joyful tears, as though he were made of moonstone and stardust.

“On the contrary. You’ve arrived just in time.” His grip was crushing. Once Xemnas reached for his hand, Saïx had the strangest thought that he never wanted to let him go. “ _I_ am the one who should apologize. Instead of searching for you, I stayed in that gods forsaken laboratory, waiting for -”

“No,” Xemnas scolded, pressing his bare, index finger against Saïx’s lips, silencing him. Only when he was quiet and perfectly still, only when his tears had dried, did Xemnas continue. “Between the two of us, I could never hope to burn as brilliantly as you do. Considering that undeniable truth, it is only just that, in the event of our separation, I should be the one to chase you across a sea of stars, from one world to the next.” 

He couldn’t stop himself. Before he knew just what he was doing, Saïx tugged him into an embrace so warm it burned the qualia into his memory. Those strong, sturdy arms wrapped around him, and he felt… safe. Axel’s chakrams and Xaldin’s spears could never even hope to reach him. 

“Saïx,” Xemnas called, drawing his attention. “I have something of great importance that I must ask of you.”

“What is it?”

Whatever it was, the answer was a confident, resounding _yes_. 

“Though I know this is your home, I cannot remain in Radiant Garden. Will you sever yourself from your roots and follow me away from this world?”

“Wherever you lead, I will follow,” he answered without hesitation, earning himself another, beautiful smile. “But where do you intend to go? Do you have another home outside of this world?” 

During all their hours of casual pillowtalk, Xemnas had never mentioned anything like that. In truth, Saïx knew remarkably little of him before his transformation into a Nobody: he’d been a researcher named Xehanort who had served as the de facto leader of Ansem’s apprentices. He’d grown up on an island, so he didn’t fare well in cold, dry climates. His favorite game was chess, and he preferred baths to showers. He liked the rare occasions when Saïx would bare his teeth when he smiled – 

And he hated it when he stole the blankets at night and shoved him further and further towards the edge of the bed with his cold, bare feet. Though as vocal as his morning complaints may have been, Xemnas never woke him up or ever bothered pushing back. Enduring his fate in dignity and silence. 

…That was love, he reasoned.

“We both have another home,” Xemnas answered. “The place to which I wish to return, Saïx, is none other than our humble castle in The World That Never Was. I departed from that world without realizing my ambitions – but I have been given a marvelous task.”

“And what is that? What may we achieve, now, as ordinary men, that we were unable to accomplish in the past? My ties to the moon have been severed. I can no longer feel the pull of its gravity. The ocean may ebb and flow at its command, but I can no longer heed its call.” 

“You are human, yes, but my own form is unchanged. I still possess my abilities as a Nobody.” Xemnas revealed. “Like Sora and Roxas, my creator, the original Xehanort, still lives. Yet through his will, I have been granted a new body and the opportunity to rectify my failures.”

“What failures? Do you mean… Kingdom Hearts?” He’d always known it was important, but the purpose of completing Kingdom Hearts was to restore themselves as whole beings. …Wasn’t it? “What does Xehanort have to do with any of that?”

For a moment, Xemnas didn’t say anything at all. As though carefully considering his each and every word, he stalled for time, stroking his fingers absentmindedly through Saïx’s hair.

“Xehanort and all those derived from him are obligated to fulfill a glorious duty towards mankind. I am burdened with great responsibility. The nature of which is… something that I should have revealed to you long ago. I _will_ tell you someday – someday soon. That, I swear. But if I may, Saïx… I would like to delay that confrontation, if possible.”

“Do you believe that I would leave you because of it?” he asked, his heart, sinking.

“Yes, I do. Or, rather… assuming that you showed mercy and remained by my side, you would never again think as highly nor as fondly of me as you do at this moment. Selfishly, I would like to bask in the warmth of your affection for just a while longer. I ask you to forgive me.”

“Then you are asking me to follow you blindly despite the fact that you are withholding essential information that would influence my decision.”

“Yes,” Xemnas admitted without a moment’s hesitation – though what Saïx saw, in place of uncertainty, was _shame_. “I neither wish to harm nor deceive you. That was never my intention – though I cannot guarantee that those scenarios will not unfold. If you follow me, then your life may very well be forfeit. …If you decide, for that reason, that I am unworthy of your devotion, then by all means, stay in Radiant Garden. Live out the rest of your life safe and sound with Ienzo and the others. I will depart for The World That Never Was and rejoin Xehanort, alone. …Though I certainly hope that you would not intend to cut ties with me,” Xemnas added on with a charming smile - and Saïx could sense that he was grasping at straws, at that moment, trying desperately to preserve their relationship. Working so hard. “I promise to visit often. I will always care for you, dearly. It is my sincerest hope, however, that I may rely on your support throughout my endeavors. I will tell you the truth, someday. I ask this of you not as your Superior, or your friend, but as a man who treasures you above all else. Come with me. Place your faith in me for just a little longer, until I gather the courage to explain my motivations.”

When Xemnas looked at him like that, as though he couldn’t take another breath without his approval, how in the world could Saïx ever hope to refuse him? 

“What will it take to convince you?” Xemnas continued, “Breakfast in bed every morning? Declarations of my undying affection, expressed through sonnet and song? I can promise the former once every evening, and I can work on improving the latter until I have a finished product that will certainly please you,” Xemnas offered, as if that would somehow change in his mind one way or the other – even if, in a way… it actually did. 

“You shouldn’t make promises that you can’t keep. I won’t accept something as effortless as toast and eggs for this ‘breakfast in bed.’ …Do you remember which blend of tea that I prefer? I will be expecting a fresh pot every morning.”

Not that he actually expected Xemnas to remember, when they made it so infrequently. It was work intensive, after all. It required too many ingredients for too little volume to justify wasting all of that time. 

“But of course I remember,” Xemnas declared, defying his every expectation. “White peppercorn, ginger, cardamom, cassia cinnamon, and cloves, ground in a mortar and pestle, simmered in milk and black assam, heavily sweetened. Was I correct?”

“…You were,” he mumbled, struck dumb by disbelief. 

“Excellent. I must ask, however: why are you so surprised? Do you believe that I do not listen when you speak?” Xemnas asked him in soft, teasing tones, so casually domestic that it twisted his gut and took his breath away. “I hang on your every word. If it will please you, Saïx, then I will gladly become whatever it is that you wish of me. Even a teahouse worker.” 

“How is it that you always know exactly what to say?”

“I aim to please,” Xemnas declared with a little, barely perceptible bow. He pulled something out of his pocket, then – a _credit chit_ \- and purchased two train tickets to the city. “This will likely be the last time that you and I visit this Radiant Garden, together.” Xemnas continued, knowing, without a verbal answer, that Saïx had already agreed to follow him. “Let us make it a day to remember.” 

When the train stopped at their station, Xemnas held his hand proudly and strode into the carriage, revealing himself to all the world, with pride, as the man who had chosen Saïx first, above all others. 

__________________________________

“Is everything okay, Lea?” Kairi asked, leaning over him as he sat on the sofa in Yen Sid’s tower. 

They were discussing the possibility of starting an apprenticeship, soon. With Sora, getting ready to embark on the journey of a lifetime, wandering about in a bunch of computer code, the “warriors of light” needed numbers - just in case. 

“Yeah,” he sighed, fanning himself with Ienzo’s second letter. “It’s just an update from home. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“But you _look_ worried… Was it bad news?” Lea let out another lingering sigh, and Kairi’s hands flew up to her mouth, covering her lips. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No, it’s okay,” he answered, feeling like a villain. “It’s just some more kind-of-bad news about a friend of mine. Or I guess we’re… not really friends, anymore. Hell, I don’t know what he is, really.” 

He waved his hand in front of his face, as though he were physically dismissing the idea. 

“Did something happen to him?”

“I guess you can say that. He woke up after being asleep for who knows how long. But you don’t have to look so sad,” Lea chuckled, comforted by the warmth of Kairi’s concern. “It wasn’t a coma, or anything. He was a Nobody. We joined the Organization together, back when we were kids, maybe even younger than you.”

“Are you talking about Roxas? Did you meet him, somehow, before Sora?”

“No, this is someone different,” he replied, shaking his head. “Someone you know, actually. Do you remember when you were, uh… kidnapped? By… that man with blue hair?”

Kairi’s eyes widened with a combination of fear, long-buried trauma, and something akin to the unsettling horror of understanding. “O-Oh, so this friend is… it’s him. Was his name… Saïx, I think?”

“Yeah. Saïx. Or ‘Isa,’ now, I guess. I know you have bad blood, but I promise, he wasn’t always like that. Somewhere deep down, he has a good heart. He really does. Isa, he’s… well, he’s something, alright,” Lea laughed, filled with a warmth he’d forgotten as a Nobody. “He’s a clever guy. Never loses a game of chess. And his favorite foods… he loves sea salt ice cream. His favorite tea is that expensive stuff that smells like old ladies. Real fruity: bergamot, I think. He’s classy, and a quick learner, and… _so_ loving. He loves dogs, of all things. Real animal lover, that guy. He told me once that he always thought humans were cruel and selfish – but animals were purely good. They were the only creatures that loved wholeheartedly, with everything they had. And I think that’s what he wanted most in life. Someone who… loved him.”

The more he thought on what he’d just said, the more he began to wonder just how much was still accurate. He hadn’t spoken with Saïx about anything like that since they were still just children. Lea sniffled, pressing his sleeve beneath his eyes to soak up his budding tears. “…Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You can stop apologizing – and you can cry if you need to,” Kairi added, “That saying that boys and men don’t cry – I always thought that was silly. There’s nothing wrong with having feelings.”

“Tell that to Isa,” Lea quipped. “I don’t think he’s cried in over twenty years. And during all that time, he’s gotten beaten up so bad he could hardly walk. He’s gotten betrayed and hurt, and… not a single tear. Not one.”

“If he’s that stoic, then it must’ve been something really awful that made him cry back then, twenty years ago.”

“…Yeah. It was,” Axel agreed, accepting the shame, knowing that what had made Isa cry, so long ago, was their breakup. “We, uh… We actually dated for a bit! Did you know that?”

“What?!” A fierce blush blossomed over her cheeks, and it was just so cute that Lea could barely resist the urge to pinch them. “O-Oh! I mean, there’s nothing with that! I was just… surprised. He doesn’t really look like someone who would date. …Or someone that _you_ would date. He doesn’t seem like your type, that’s all.”

“Looks can be deceiving. Isa’s probably the best boyfriend a person could have. He’s the type of guy that lives to please, you know? A real, professional, right-hand man.”

“Then why did you break up with him? Did you just… fall out of love? I know that happens, sometimes.”

“No, that’s not it. I always loved him. Hell, I still do, kind of. Don’t get me wrong, Roxas is my best friend, but Isa is someone that I’ve cared about since we were kids. It’s a different kind of love. The reason we broke up was… It’s not that I didn’t like him; we just wanted different things. We _were_ too different. Right off the bat, Isa wanted to go all in, with his ‘marry me straight out of high school’ kind of talk. A house with a yard, two kids, ten dogs, and a white picket fence. But I just… wasn’t ready for that. You know?”

“I get it. But just because you didn’t want to commit to anything at the time doesn’t mean that you didn’t love him – or that you don’t love him, now.”

“Yeah, exactly. And now that we’re human, I’m sure Isa is going to want to pick up right back where we left off. Have things play out the way he always thought they were supposed to. Or who knows – maybe he’s really, seriously pissed off that I chose to follow Roxas over staying with him, even though I told him from the start that’s what I’d do,” Lea chuckled, though his forced, good humor soon died down into a despondent, trembling sigh. “…He probably thinks I’m a scumbag.”

“I don’t think that’s true. He wrote to you – didn’t he? I’m sure that means something.”

“Yeah, it means he didn’t want to write to me, himself,” he quipped. Giving up on good posture, Lea slumped forward, hanging his head below his shoulders. “This letter? It’s not from Isa. It’s from a guy we used to work with: Ienzo. He’s telling me that Isa’s awake, and that he’s, uh… not particularly happy about being alone in our old hometown. He’s thinking about leaving and living his life, and… I guess Ienzo is asking me to come home and patch everything back up.”

“You should get going, then!” Kairi shot up from her seat, jogging up to him.

When Axel didn’t react, only looking up at her, for a moment, he swore that glimmer of fierce determination in her eyes meant that she was going to grab at him, physically tugging him up. Perhaps if she were only a little bigger, she actually would have. 

“No, I don’t want to disappoint Master Yen Sid like that. Bailing before our training even starts? Hell, bailing before I’ve even really agreed to it?”

“But what about Isa?” she asked – and that pitiful tone made him feel like a monster. “Master Yen Sid will understand if you need to delay your training for a little bit. I know that mastering our keyblades is important, but so is this. Don’t you think so?”

When Lea didn’t respond, much to his surprise, Kairi refused to drop the subject, pressing onwards, boldly. 

“You love Isa, don’t you?”

“Well, I care about what happens to him –”

“That’s not good enough,” she scolded, glaring down at him with a look that made his knees weak. “Do you or do you not love him?”

“Okay, okay! I… I love him,” Lea stuttered. Those three words alone sent butterflies flittering in his stomach. “I… love him.”

“Then go! He’s waiting for you, isn’t he? How long’s it been since Ienzo wrote that letter?”

“…Too damn long,” he answered, shaking his head. 

“Honestly… Why are men so stubborn, sometimes? Just _go_.”

He was just about to stand when that horrible memory came rushing back like a tidal wave. 

His back to the bathroom wall in their old high school, the air, reverberating with the force of Isa’s inconsolable sobbing. Or maybe Lea _could_ have consoled him, if he’d actually tried. The nightmare was always longer, now. Saïx, as a grown man, crossing his arms and refusing to say another word as Axel disappeared into the darkness. 

He wondered if he’d cried for him after he’d left. 

“…No,” Lea said at last, losing his nerve and slumping back down onto the sofa. “I was… kind of an asshole when I left him behind in Xemnas’s castle. Going back now, just to say, ‘hello and goodbye,’ just to go back to looking for Roxas – that’s just rubbing it in. Don’t you think so? If I ever show my face in front of Isa, again, I have to do this right. I can do it; I’m going to be a keyblade warrior. I’ll have Roxas by my side, and together, the two of us are going to show Isa that everything’s going to be _better_ than he thought it would be.”

“Lea, _don’t_. Putting this off is only going to make things worse,” she warned, but, due to his own desire to better himself – _or perhaps due only to his fear of Isa’s sorrow_ – Lea shook his head, determined to refuse her. 

“No. I get where you’re coming from, but I can’t face Isa like this. I just… I can’t.”

…There was no way he could have known.

If he’d only been able to anticipate the heartbreak and the misery that would stem as a result of his inaction, Axel would have dropped everything – even Roxas – to come rushing home. He would have burst down the door of that lab, just to be the one that came to Isa’s rescue when he needed it.


	8. Chapter 8

Xemnas’s autocratic, micromanaging style of leadership translated over to both home and bedroom. He was every bit as domineering a lover as he was a master: so possessive, constantly pressing for a thorough account of where Saïx had been and what he’d done, with whom and how often. Always hovering over his shoulder. Any other man would have packed their bags and left, disgusted by Xemnas’s constant interference, but to Saïx, his almost overbearing affection was nothing short of a pleasant change of pace, when compared to the thinly veiled disgust and blatant apathy with which he come to expect from even the most casual of interactions with others.

Nobody cared for Saïx’s opinions, when nobody cared for _him_ at all. He was too unlikable to form lasting friendships. His behavior was too self-serving, his ethics, too loose and far too unorthodox to appeal to any ordinary partners. He was always too insufferably cold. …But Xemnas had changed his perception of himself. He’d changed everything. When they were together, Saïx was someone whose voice was worth hearing. 

When he was with Xemnas, he was worth something.

Of course, he’d received compliments time and again, in the past, stating that outright; his teachers never hesitated to tell him how eloquent or how mature he was. What a quick learner. But none of that mattered when it had hurt Saïx so deeply to realize that as the years passed and he pushed seventeen, twenty-one, twenty- _eight_ years old, there wasn’t a single person in all the worlds who had chosen him to be their partner.

When Axel had packed up his past into convenient little tinderboxes and burned it down, when he had reinvented himself as _Roxas’s_ companion, Saïx felt so small, isolated in his quiet, neatly decorated office, toying with his puzzle cube and dusting the very same bookshelves, over and over, just to pass the time. 

Perhaps Axel had cared for him as a friend, perhaps he still _did_ , but Saïx was never after something as common and replaceable as friendship. And now, even if Axel declared his love for him after all those years, Saïx didn’t want to be with someone who could so easily move past the trauma of losing him, as though he were no more important than a favorite handbag or a family pet: thought of fondly and often, yet destined to be replaced and perhaps even forgotten, in time. 

That wasn’t good enough for him - because to Saïx, love was more than sex and simple companionship. Falling in love was just the same as making a solemn and unspoken vow that he couldn’t live without his heart. That if he found himself alone, one day, with no partner and no hope of reunion, then that would be the end of him. He wouldn’t be able to work, or eat, or take a single, wretched breath without them. After knowing how it felt to live – to _truly_ live – how could he ever be expected to return to an existence as wretched as stumbling through life as one broken half of a legitimate human being?

He didn’t understand how anyone could take a bond like that for granted.

He certainly wouldn’t, when he felt whole, nestled in his lover’s arms, naked in their nest of blankets in The World That Never Was. Xemnas clung to him like a vice, pressing kisses down the line of his jaw, whispering sweet nothings into his ear until Saïx fell into a deep and comforting sleep, enveloped in a haze of warm, soothing baritone. He dreamt of nothing and no one: of the sweet silence of the void, itself, until a quiet whisper tugged at the edge of his unconsciousness, pulling at his strings.

“…Saïx.” 

That was Xemnas’s voice. 

Had he called his name? Though Saïx waded through the gentle waters, slowly crawling back into awareness, he didn’t have the energy to open his eyes. Struck down by the ripples of post-coital oblivion, even hours after the deed was done, aided along by three drinks and two, little pills, Saïx’s body felt as heavy and as warm as molten gold, melting in the sunlight. 

Xemnas’s voice was so soft, so hesitant, that Saïx wasn’t entirely certain whether he’d heard anything at all. Letting out a quiet, contented sigh, he inched back, pressing himself against the curve of Xemnas’s body.

“Saïx,” the voice repeated, a little more insistently, that time. 

Oh, and it was Xemnas, alright; Saïx felt his lover’s chest vibrating as he spoke. In the complete silence of the castle, Xemnas’s pulse thundered behind him, masked only by the steady rise and fall of his ribs with every, soothing breath.

Struggling to resist the insurmountable task of waking up, Saïx tugged his blankets higher and tried to drown out the sensation of Xemnas’s thumb, rubbing gentle circles into his hip. He swore, that man was purposefully grazing his bruises. Grumbling, he reached for Xemnas’s wrist and fell straight into his trap. Immediately, his lover grabbed his hand, weaving their fingers together and squeezing tight. 

…It was just so like him. 

Despite himself, Saïx melted into the touch, his frustrations, vaporizing.

“ _Saïx_ ,” his lover called once more, almost as though he were waiting for his express permission to continue. 

“…What is it?” 

He swore, if Xemnas woke him up just to ask him to fetch a warm glass of milk or a piping hot cup of tea, Saïx was going to fill up a glass just to shatter it against Xemnas’s temple. …At the very least, that was what he told himself, just to spare his pride. He’d dragged himself out of bed at Xemnas’s behest far too many times to feign annoyance, by that point. 

He lived to please the man that he loved, and it was painfully obvious to all who observed them. He didn’t even bother to hide it, anymore.

Though Saïx had expected yet another asinine request, Xemnas only held him closer, dragging their hands, up, and up, and _up_ , until they rested against his bruised collarbone. Xemnas traced his fingertips against the raised, angry bite marks, torn into Saïx’s flesh like a string of blossoms. Crimson and violet. 

“I… wanted to thank you.” 

He spoke in a tone that Saïx didn’t recognize. Gone were his confidence and eloquence, revealing something almost _vulnerable_ beneath his shell. Something soft, and gentle, and so sincere it made his heart ache. Instinctively, Saïx tried to turn and face him, seeking more, but Xemnas held him in place so tightly, it paralyzed him. It was almost as though the man were determined to hide behind his back like a specter, always, just barely out of sight. Eventually, Saïx simply gave up, collapsing, pliant, back into his arms.

“For what?” he asked. “I haven’t done anything worth your recognition.”

“On the contrary. You deserve praise and so much more.” Saïx could feel Xemnas’s lips curve up into a smile, pressed gently against the back of his neck. “You deserve the world, when you summoned the courage to turn your claymore against Sora in my defense.”

“I lost,” Saïx clarified, chuckling weakly into his pillow. “I was defeated by a fifteen-year-old boy, a dimwitted, anthropomorphic dog, and a _duck_. I’ve been questioning my masculinity ever since.”

“Enough of that nonsense,” Xemnas commanded. Even half-mumbling, he spoke with such natural authority that, despite his burning desire to play the eternal contrarian, Saïx couldn’t help but listen. “You are perfect just the way you are. Masculine or feminine, human or Nobody, you are the most important person in my life. That is the only item of importance. Not what you are or what you have done.”

Those words were so familiar, teetering at the edge of his memory. Saïx couldn’t help but feel as though he’d said something similar once, a lifetime ago, to someone who had meant the world to him. 

“You don’t have to lie to me. I know myself. I know that I have no redeeming traits,” he argued, shaking away Xemnas’s praise. “Even as a child, if anyone ever spoke to me, it was due only to my association with Lea. Alone, I am –”

“What you are is nothing short of my most precious treasure,” Xemnas answered, in his stead. “No matter what the future may bring, the memory of our time together will warm me through the frigid winters.” 

…What a strange thing to say.

Combing through Xemnas’s words for some semblance of hidden meaning, Saïx stared out the window into the infinite night. With no Kingdom Hearts to light their way, darkness pervaded every inch of their humble castle. 

“Sora defeated us both, and yet here you are, making it sound as if only I am destined to die in this second round of trials,” Saïx teased, expecting a witty retort on Xemnas’s part. 

Though what followed, instead, however, was a heavy, solemn silence, dragging on for centuries.

“That is because you are. …I’ve delayed this conversation for far too long. I should have told you everything before we departed for the castle.”

That mournful tone, the guilt and the shame, made his heart sink. It was far too sincere in its sadness to belong to the Xemnas that he knew. Though he’d always suspected that Xemnas’s little “confession” wouldn’t be pleasant, Saïx wondered, then, if reality wasn’t infinitely worse than he’d presumed. A thousand questions raced through his mind, and yet he held his tongue. When Saïx was a grown man with over a decade of work experience under his belt, he knew that there were some confrontations in which the only correct argument was to say nothing at all.

But as he listened, time dragged on, and Xemnas lay motionless behind him, barely breathing.

“The days we spent together were like rays of pure light,” Xemnas said at last, his voice, barely rising above a whisper. “The evenings, like soothing shade and cool, spring rain. I wanted to savor those moments. I wanted more time.” 

“You will have it. I will not abandon you, now. I died for you, once, Xemnas, and I will do it again, if need be. Your faith gives me courage. When I am with you, I fear nothing. Not even death.” 

Xemnas shook his head – his soft, hair, brushing lightly against Saïx’s back.

“ _I_ am the one you should fear,” he corrected. “For death will come for you, not through Sora’s hand, but through mine. Saïx… I am going to kill you, one of these days.”

“…What are you talking about?” 

That chilling tone froze the blood in his veins. His eyes grew wide as he waited for ethereal blades to pierce through his chest, running him through. But Xemnas never moved. He only let out a deep, weary breath that he must have been holding in for ages.

“Saïx… rejoining the Organization will end in your most certain death. You have nothing to gain and everything to lose. The goal of Organization XIII was never to restore your missing heart. That was a story that I had fabricated in order to instill the curse of false hope unto you, my twelve subordinates. That lie was meant to inspire you and your peers to risk your lives in combat against the forces of light which oppose us. In truth, however, all of your efforts to restore Kingdom Hearts and repel Sora’s advance were for the sole purpose of fulfilling Xehanort’s ambitions, and Xehanort’s alone. The truth is that none of you would have benefitted from our success. Even if my artificial Kingdom Hearts had been successfully completed, your humanity would have never been returned to you. The only one to benefit from your efforts would have been Xehanort.” Xemnas paused, then, though, choking back bile, Saïx couldn’t say a single word in response to him. “Though, at the very least, with Xehanort’s victory, our role in his story, our tireless struggle, would have finally come to an end. I, too, would have outlived my usefulness upon the completion of Kingdom Hearts. But Xehanort is my progenitor. Surely, he would have recognized me as an independent being, created in his image. He is cruel, but he is not without mercy. …I know that he would have taken pity on me and allowed the two of us to -” His voice trailed off, dying out into quiet, desolate silence. “Though I suppose that there is little merit in speaking of hypothetical situations, now - of what could be or could have been. The simple fact remains that I have failed in my endeavors. And due to that failure, we have no choice, now, but to gather our thirteen darknesses: the thirteen fragments of Xehanort’s essence.”

“What does Xehanort have to do with any of this? What ‘essence?’” Saïx asked, overwhelmed by disgust and disbelief. He didn’t know what was in the water, but Xemnas sounded more like a raving madman than the poised, handsome dignitary with whom he’d fallen in love in the first place, all those years ago. “…What in all the worlds are you talking about? _Xemnas_ -”

“In order to awaken the true strength of Kingdom Hearts, now, Xehanort has no other option but to replicate his spirit into thirteen independent bodies, each capable of drawing from the bottomless wellspring of his strength and knowledge. Thirteen bodies to contain and wield his power. As of now, we are but five. Though as the end grows nigh, we are desperately seeking to fill the seats. Saïx… in order to bring our ambitions into reality, I need _you_ to serve as Xehanort’s sixth vessel. To do so, however, I must rob you of your heart before shattering your mind and possessing your body.”

He should have shoved him away in horror, but instead, with his mind, drowning, Saïx glanced over his shoulder, seeking some form of comfort or validation from his lover – only to find that Xemnas wouldn’t even look at him. 

“What is to become of me, then?” he asked, finally.

“As Xehanort’s consciousness settles into your body, your own bone and muscle will become nothing more than a cage. Your ability to exert control over your body will wane, and you will be reduced to… a ‘sleeping consciousness,’ never again to awaken. Though the other four may argue otherwise, I will tell you, now, that being possessed by Xehanort is the equivalence of death. Your heart will sink into darkness, and there you will remain, for time immemorial.”

He could barely process anything that Xemnas was telling him. It was all so sudden, so dissonant, so unexpected from everything he’d come to know from the man. Like a bullet in the back, piercing through his flesh and shattering his bones, the revelation left him drained and dumbstruck, staring back at him in silence and slowly, sinking horror. Surely that couldn’t be it. 

Five minutes later, Saïx was still waiting for the punchline. 

“You want to… _possess my body_?” Though Xemnas could have easily resisted – he was so much larger than him – he simply lay back, letting Saïx push him aside, letting him straddle his hips and stare down into those cold, golden eyes, searching for the vaguest trace of deception or even sympathy. “I don’t understand; what is this?”

“It is the truth. You had always known so little… But Saïx, you were chosen from the very start. You are already more of Xehanort than you presume.”

Sheer, unspeakable horror settled over him.

“What did you do to me?” he asked, glancing down at his body, pressing his fingers against his skin, if only to test whether he still possessed all five of his senses. Was his body still his? Was his heart? Overcome by anger, Saïx gripped down onto his shoulders, shaking him. “What did you do? _Tell me_!” 

“I was kind to you,” Xemnas explained jerking him out of his rage, mercilessly dragging him back to the world of the living. 

“…What of it?”

“Any vessel consumed by darkness can contain Xehanort’s essence: a lowly replica, a Heartless, or even a Nobody.” Though he spoke of himself, there was such sadness in his tone, as though he had the gall to wish that their lives had been different – that he could have been any other man than the one that he was. “But the ultimate strength and talents of those individuals will vary. I knew from the start that in order to mold you into an ideal vessel, I needed to grow close to you – but I never fully understood the reason why. Xehanort never deigned to tell me, and, at the time, I did not care to ask. …But living my life with you, watching you grow, and feeling the warmth of your affection, has led to the development of profound understanding. You will become a powerful vessel, indeed – for, even now, when you stand incomplete, you are a greater embodiment of Xehanort’s heart than Ansem could ever hope to be.” 

“No. My heart is mine.”

“Oh, Saïx. A heart is more than muscle and blood. It is more than consciousness and qualia. Do you not understand? …A heart that is yours is a heart that loves _you_.”

…Saïx couldn’t stay in that bed, touching _him_ , for another moment longer. He kicked away his blankets and rushed to find his clothing.

Xemnas had seen him naked countless times in the past; he’d seen him weeping, and moaning, and begging for more. He’d seen him bent over tables and sprawled on his back, spreading his legs like a wanton whore. Intoxicated by love, Saïx had been shameless, but with the veil, torn away, his vulnerability came rushing back. From the darkness of the bed, he felt Xemnas’s sharp eyes roaming over every inch of his naked body, and for the first time in years, he couldn’t guess what that man was thinking. 

As he tugged on his boxers, Saïx looked down at his thighs, covered in bite marks and bruises, and he felt _disgusting_. Knowing that Xemnas had touched him, knowing that he’d been rutting about inside of him, knowing that he’d _finished_ inside of him was – 

He couldn’t tolerate the shame. He felt so dirty, he wanted to run back to his childhood home in tears. He wanted to grab his mother’s cheese grater and strip off his skin in weeping, bright red ribbons. 

Somehow, through the grace of the gods, when he next spoke, Saïx’s voice didn’t falter. 

“In Radiant Garden, you told me that I was free to leave – that if I saw past your deceptions and realized that I wanted nothing more to do with you, then you would release your claim on me and let me go. Was that a lie?”

“No. I meant what I said, but there is no need to isolate yourself. I swore to you that I would visit, and you know that I do not make such promises lightly. Whether you refuse my offer or choose to stay, you and I will still be –” Xemnas hesitated before ending that statement, likely asking himself the very same question that Saïx considered, at that moment: just what _were_ they to each other?

“Where do you intend to go?” Xemnas asked, instead – his voice, soft and tender. At that moment, despite Xemnas’s clear concern for him, or perhaps because of it, Saïx had never _hated_ him more than he did at that very moment. His anger burned bright, scorching him from the inside out and turning him to nothing more than ash and bone. 

“What does it matter? The two of us will never meet again, either way. I will go wherever I please, and _you_ can stay here and find yourself another fool.” 

“Saïx…”

His name was Isa.

“Axel saw through your lies from the very beginning. Even a child such as Roxas knew better than to place his trust you, but I -” He sunk his canines into his cheek until blood seeped between his teeth, flooding over his tongue. The pain served its purpose, distracting him just long enough to stop his tears from falling. He wouldn’t humiliate himself any further; not like that. “I gave you everything that I had. I sacrificed my life for you. I gave up on my relationship with Axel… for _you_. I even turned my back on _her_ –” 

Gods, he hadn’t thought about _her_ in an eternity. The light of his life, his heart and his soul. 

Rejected by Lea, his world had fallen to the void, floating through the endless dark. He’d gone through the motions of daily life - he smiled, he tutored, he went to school - but existence had lost all meaning for him. There had been days at a time when Isa could barely bring himself to open his eyes in the mornings. He’d drowned out the sun in blackout curtains. Simple tasks like eating and showering had seemed as daunting and insurmountable as parting the ocean. …And nothing had been quite as difficult or nearly as grueling as being with Lea. Pretending that he wasn’t suffocating beneath his mask. Lea had never noticed, and Isa had almost lost hope for himself, entirely, but when he’d found her, she’d seen past his illusions in an instant. Sharp as a razor, she always knew just how to shatter his shields and send his pillars crashing down. 

He still remembered the very last night he’d spent with her. Lea had gone home ages ago. When Isa had turned to follow, she gripped onto his coat at the very last moment, keeping him there. Asking him to stay for just a while longer, as though she’d known that they would never see each other again. As though something had told her it would be the last time. 

Their first and last kiss was sweeter than strawberries in the summertime.

…She would have been so disappointed to see what he’d become. 

Isa: her hero, her prince, and her knight in shining armor. In all the pictures she’d drawn for him, she always dressed in him in a cape and crown, riding in on his brave white steed, as though she couldn’t decide just what kind of savior he was to her. Perhaps, more likely, she saw him as a combination of all three. 

Her hero, knight, and prince – seduced by empty promises and a hot, sturdy body, pressing him down into the mattress. 

“I was so stupid.” 

With nothing but a bedsheet, carelessly wrapped around his waist, Xemnas rose, approaching him with care and caution, backing him into a corner like a wounded animal.

“No. Saïx, you are –”

“Even as a boy, I’d always known that there was something inherently wrong with me. Something deep and primal. From the very beginning of time itself, if human beings have relied upon each other for protection and comfort, then what does it mean for a man to be rejected by all whom he encounters? …I never understood this social game that people play, but with you, I felt as though I had formed a genuine, lasting connection, for once in my life – after my bond with Axel had been revealed as nothing more than a lie, and after she had disappeared. With you, I knew how it felt to be a real human being.”

“You still are. You are a complete and worthwhile man on your very own. I want you to _live_ ,” Xemnas insisted. “I told you about the true purpose of our Organization, not because of any obligation or instruction from Xehanort, but for the simple reason that you deserve to know the truth. Whether you stay or go, I want the decision to be rightfully yours. A decision made wisely, with all information at your disposal and all possible futures, laid bare.”

“Xemnas,” he called, sounding so weak and pathetic, it made bile rise from the pit of his stomach. “I want to ask you something, and I want you to answer me honestly.”

“I swear that I will.”

Saïx thought carefully. Though there were a million thoughts racing through his mind: about his fate, about the Organization, and about the two of them, there was only one line of questioning that truly mattered.

“Do you love me?” he asked. “Did you _ever_ love me?”

“…No.” It was everything he’d suspected, everything he’d been hoping for in order to validate the cruelty of Xemnas’s betrayal, and yet somehow, Saïx found his heart breaking at the thought of it: both that Xemnas never cared and that he’d been wretched enough to admit it. “Regarding the intricacies of love and devotion, I possess neither the memory nor the qualia. What you ask me to provide for you is beyond my capabilities as Xehanort’s Nobody.”

That sorrowful tone was the first, genuine display of remorse that he’d ever seen from Xemnas – or, at the very least, it was an incredibly convincing replica of the genuine article. Nervously, Xemnas dug his fingers into his bedsheet wrap. Though he glanced curious eyes over Saïx’s body, he never met his gaze. Xemnas coughed into his first before continuing, sounding so small – 

“I do not love you… but I do not wish for you to be unhappy. Saïx, you are a good man. A wonderful partner and a treasured companion. I want you to live the rest of your life with no regrets, whichever path you may choose. …I only wish to you to make your decision wisely; I want you to know, now, that both paths lead to oblivion. Upon the completion of Xehanort’s ambitions, all life in the worlds will come to an abrupt and horrid end, falling to nothingness and antigravity. Xehanort will wipe the slate clean and rewrite existence, itself, in his image. _That_ is the power of Kingdom Hearts. If you return to Radiant Garden, you will be free of my influence, yes – but that will not pause the sand in your hourglass. Instead of fading out of existence, here in the castle, with dignity, you will die a gruesome death amongst the screaming masses. …That is not the end that I desire for a life that shines as brightly as yours.”

“Is that the Organization’s true goal? To see the universe rise from its ashes?” It was so unbelievable that Saïx couldn’t even put the pieces together. Kingdom Hearts and Xehanort, Xemnas and his body. Perhaps it was only due to the stress, but Saïx couldn’t help but chuckle through his pained and weary grimace. “You’ve revealed a little bit too much, now haven’t you? …I should relay that information to Sora.”

“You should – and I will not blame if you do,” Xemnas agreed, mirroring his sad, gentle smile. “You are free to do as you please… but I hope that you will remain at my side. Very soon, the universe itself will be reset. Every last man, woman, and child will perish in the suffocating void. I do not wish for you to share their fate. To spend your final moments in fear and agony, standing alone, with nothing to live for and no one to hold your hand at the end of the world. Death will not come quietly, if you choose to abandon the Organization. Your heart will be wrenched from your body - the both of them, condemned to burn, rot, and wither as the very fabric of space and time is pulled apart at the seams. Instead, I want you to stay,” he reiterated. “I want to watch over you until your fated time has come. I want you to have the privilege of dying softly. To close your eyes and drift away, carried off into the tide.”

“Why should my fate concern you in the slightest?” Though Saïx should have worried himself, more, with the end of days and the destruction of life, itself, all he could focus on was his own, petty disillusionments and Xemnas’s betrayal. “You said, yourself, that you never loved me.”

“Perhaps I do not love you in the way that you desire,” Xemnas clarified, taking a risk and stroking his thumb across Saïx’s cheek, cupping his face in his palm, “But you are, and always will be, dearly beloved.”

Despite himself, Saïx couldn’t help but lean into that warm, familiar touch, savoring the memory when he knew that it would be for the very last time. It disgusted him, how wonderful it felt. How wonderful _Xemnas_ still made him feel. That was the weakness of the human heart, he concluded: that emotion should overwhelm even the power of his own logic. 

Still, Saïx was no fool. Overcoming the wrenching pull in his heart, screaming at him to rush into Xemnas’s arms, Saïx, instead, pulled away. 

“I want you to fulfill your promise to me,” he insisted. “I want to leave this place.”

Xemnas’s disappointment was almost palpable. His charming smile faltered, and for just a split second, regardless of how ridiculous and how unreasonable it was for him to think of himself in that regard, it was _Saïx_ who felt like the traitor. Xemnas was a monster, and yet Saïx’s heart twisted, knowing that he’d wounded him. 

“Where will you go?” Xemnas asked. “Will you stay in Radiant Garden?”

“Why do you need to know that? I certainly won’t be asking you to visit.”

That expression on Xemnas’s face – he looked more like a lost, little boy than a dignified man. 

“Saïx, if you are thinking about chasing after Axel, I implore you to reconsider.”

“You hardly have the right to ‘implore’ me to do anything. You’ve burned your bridges with me. I can associate myself with whomever I please.”

Xemnas actually grumbled, still worrying that bedsheet around his waist. He looked as though he were just dying to say something, and all of his restraints and barriers, his need to be “proper,” were slowly but surely breaking away. 

“…Do not associate yourself with Axel,” he warned, his tone, dark and morbid. “Do you know where he’s been, all this time?”

“No. Ienzo only told me that Axel had departed from Radiant Garden, one day, and never returned. He left the name of an emergency contact and nothing else.” Saïx drew closer, then, despite knowing the risk. “Do you know where he’s gone?”

“I have a very strong suspicion. I know, for certain, that he has been chosen as a keyblade wielder. As one of the seven vessels of light, destined to oppose this Organization and all that it stands for. He is training, now, under the tutelage of a keyblade master. I’ve narrowed down a list of possible worlds, though as to where he is exactly, I fear that even I do not know.”

“ _Axel_? A keyblade master?” Saïx remarked in sheer disbelief. “But he is the least dependable, most noncommittal –” Oh, he could have gone on and on, listing off a thousand reasons why his old, former friend wasn’t suited to scoop ice cream, much less carry humanity’s burdens on his thin, boney shoulders. 

“Perhaps he was an unreliable buffoon when you and I knew him,” Xemnas continued, cutting off his tirade. “But Roxas’s death has blessed him with drive and inspiration. Now, he works tirelessly, committing himself to a noble cause. For _him_. …Do you understand? Those are the great lengths to which Axel would go for Roxas’s sake. He would train in the art of the keyblade, and with that newfound strength, he would turn his blade against me – and _you_ , if you aligned yourself with us.”

“By all means, I should let him kill you,” he retorted, spitting venom. 

“Saïx, _think_ ,” Xemnas practically pleaded, placing his sturdy hand on his shoulder. “Uncloud your judgement. Pretend, for a moment, that I had never told you about the Organization’s true intentions. …You would have stayed with me until the universe itself fell apart. Is that not correct?”

It was. 

He really had been that stupid. Knowing that horrific truth, Saïx couldn’t say a single word in his defense. He only waited, struck blind and dumb, as Xemnas drew closer, as quiet as the grave.

“Then, assuming that, Axel would still attempt to kill me and subdue _you_ when you inevitably stood in his way. Do you understand? For the sake of rescuing Roxas, Axel would be willing to rob you of your only companion in all the worlds. And, assuming that I fell, after my death, do you honestly believe that he would return for you? When Roxas’s salvation lies in the very palm of his hand, would he not march forward to claim it? Or can you tell me, with faith and absolute certainty, that you earnestly believe that Axel would dither about, waiting for you to pick up all of your broken pieces before he moved on?” 

“No… You’re lying.” Saïx’s voice cracked, timid and puerile. “Axel would never do that to me. He wouldn’t –”

Oh, but he would. Wouldn’t he?

“Saïx, this man has betrayed you once, already. Do not give him the opportunity to do so a second time.”

“I already have,” he clarified, his entirely body, shaking. “Axel has betrayed me twice, already.”

Abandoning him in the Organization, forcing him to climb the ranks and chase after the past, alone, while he built himself a glorious and wonderful future in the light. Leaving him to rot in Radiant Garden while he left to study under a keyblade master. And for whom? 

For _Roxas_?

Axel’s devotion to that boy had gutted him, leaving Saïx raw and bleeding, his intestines, spilling out. 

“Then you know that he can turn on you again. Axel has made it perfectly clear that you are not his priority.” 

“Neither am I yours,” Saïx argued, his reason, floundering. Now, he really was just being contrary.

“No, you are not,” Xemnas answered. “But at the very least, I respect and care for you enough to admit it. I have my own ambitions, yes – but you are, always have been, and always _will be_ the dearest man in my life. I am… incredibly fond of you, Saïx. I do not wish for you to fall to pain and misfortune. I want you to stay and be safe for as long as is possible. If you remain in this Organization, I can distance myself from you, if it will ease your suffering; I do not wish to make this transition any more difficult for you than it has to be. We can become enemies, if you’d like. I will welcome your anger and hatred with open arms. I will endure the blood and broken bones in silence. You may exact your vengeance upon me, and it will be no less than I deserve. …Though if I may speak freely, if I may speak carelessly –” His words echoed, unearthing warm, pleasant memories of better days. His time in the sun. “I have come to enjoy the illusion of being… lovers. If it would please you, I would like to care for you for just a while longer. Even if my love is illegitimate, I hope that it will be enough to bring you comfort in your final days. Saïx, I want you to be happy. I want to show you new, dazzling experiences. I want you to learn and to grow. To live a life so wonderful, that despite its brevity, you may depart from this world with no regrets.”

Xemnas smiled, then – as beautiful and intoxicatingly charming as it was empty. Though Saïx knew that any kindnesses shown towards him, then, were motivated by nothing more than Xemnas’s selfishness, a little seed of doubt had been planted deep within him. 

When every option lead to oblivion, was it truly so awful, so shameless, to choose the path of least resistance? He could throw his life away, waiting out the years in Radiant Garden, draining Ienzo’s charity, if he deigned to take him back. Though Saïx knew that he was and always had been inherently unlikable. Considering what had transpired with Dilan, it was all the more likely that Ienzo would turn him away, and Saïx would end up rotting on the streets, starving and helpless, without a single person who cared, who _truly_ cared, whether he lived or died. Maybe Axel wouldn’t even go to his funeral, if he even had one. After all, if Axel’s bond with Roxas was so strong that he would dedicate his life to becoming a keyblade master, just for him, then surely… he’d forgotten about Saïx, altogether. 

Axel would never come for him. The girl – now the woman – that he’d loved, all those years ago, was likely dead. And on the rare chance that she wasn’t, she’d be so disappointed in him that surely, she wouldn’t want anything to do with him, either. Saïx would have rejected himself, too, in her shoes. 

His only, true option was staying with Xemnas. 

Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. 

Xemnas would look after him, and smile at him, and treat him like a lover until the end of his days. Even if it was false, at the very least, it was _something_.

“I will open a corridor to Radiant Garden, if you would like. I will grant you your freedom and leave you to your own devices. Or you could take my hand and stay with me.” He curled his fingers gently, beckoning him. “Come back to bed, Love. We can talk about this in the morning, over breakfast and tea. …Please.” 

He was actually begging him. 

It shattered what little remained of Saïx’s will and his dignity. 

“Saïx, _please_ , don’t leave me alone like this.”

“No –” Saïx pushed him away, growling. “That isn’t fair. You don’t have the right to turn those words against me.”

“I know,” Xemnas admitted, offering his hand once more. “But I am a callous, selfish man. I do not want to let you go. …I want to play at being lovers for just a while longer.”

“In order to be lovers, you would actually need to _love_ me.”

“…Oh, but I do,” Xemnas lied with effortless fluidity. Always such a brilliant actor. A gentle smile, glowing with joy and endless warmth, blossomed over Xemnas’s face. 

Xemnas reached for his hand, slowly leading him back to the bed, and though Saïx had plenty of time to pull away, he realized that in the end… he couldn’t. He just couldn’t do it. Not when Xemnas wove such wonderful lies, so beautiful, so convincing that despite everything that had happened, the weakest fragments of Saïx’s heart actually started to believe him all over again. 

He couldn’t help it. 

Kissing him, Xemnas reached down to remove his coat, and then his shirt. As Saïx sat motionless – blind, deaf, and dumb – at the edge of the bed, Xemnas knelt before him to remove his boots and his socks, before tugging off his trousers and… everything else. 

“My dear, you look so restless,” he crooned, as he sprawled Saïx’s body onto the center of their bed. “Would you like me to help you with that? I can treat you gently, if you would like. Or we can set the same, punishing pace that makes your toes curl. You are always out like a light, afterwards,” he teased, smiling down at him, warm and kind. 

Drowning in shame, Saïx felt tears prick at the corners of his irises, though Xemnas was quick to wipe them away, hushing him.

“Come, now. None of that.” 

Xemnas’s smile faltered for a moment, before he reaffixed his mask with perfect confidence. “…You can turn me away if you would like, Saïx. It was never my intention to pressure you.”

“No, it’s alright,” he answered, reaching for Xemnas’s hand and pressing it against his cheek. It was sturdy and warm, just as he’d always remembered it. There were a few callouses from his training, a scar or two, and… there it was. The papercut from two days ago. Xemnas had gotten it from running through a list of receipt charges that they’d racked up at a piano bar in the middle of Twilight Town. Running it through those long, elegant fingers.

“Would you like me to sleep on the sofa, tonight? Or in a separate room?” Xemnas asked, always so considerate, even as a liar. _That_ was what Saïx should have focused on – the deception. 

But instead, he couldn’t stop looking at that papercut, and despite himself, Saïx smiled. 

“No… Stay with me.” Slowly, resigning himself to his fate, Saïx spread his legs and let his lover settle down on top of him. Before Xemnas had the chance to press inside, however, Saïx stopped him with a gentle hand, running through his snow white hair. “Xemnas,” he began, “I want to ask you a question, and I want you to answer me honestly.”

“Of course,” he answered, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips. “What is it?” 

“…Do you love me?” 

“Must you truly ask?” Xemnas chuckled, smiling down at him with all the love in their world and the next. “Dear heart, I love you to the moon and back.”


	9. Chapter 9

Tendons stitching togethering, joints realigning, any physical evidence of his wounds had faded ages ago – that was what Ienzo had recorded on Lea’s medical record, anyway. He didn’t buy it. When he rubbed at his shoulder, he could still feel the aftershock. 

Isa’s claymore crashed down like a meteorite, hurtling through the darkness of space to usher in the death of an era. 

In the face of such strength, it was absurd to imagine that there was once a time when Isa could barely summon the strength to drag two liters of soda half a block from the gas station to Lea’s garage. Faded memories of his dear, old friend came flooding back in still shots, captured in grainy sepia. He could still recall his face, dripping with sweat, flushed and glowing in the hot, summer sun. Back in Organization XIII, Saïx’s unquestionable authority had instilled unto him an aura of absolute invulnerability, but it was always childhood memories which reminded Lea that, even as a grown man, his little Isa, picked last in gym class and too cool for manual labor, for serving noodles and moving crates, like the rest of them, just wasn’t strong enough to stand on his own. He needed someone to hold his hand. To serve as his lantern and cane in the darkness. 

Until the very last moment when their blades collided, when it was _his_ weapon that cracked, Lea had been a staunch believer of Isa’s helplessness. With weakness came purity – and even at his worst, Isa had always sat so beautifully upon the pedestal that Lea had built for him. 

If he hadn’t seen it for himself, Lea would have never believed that the rumors floating through the Organization’s grapevine could ever have been true. That Organization XIII’s cowardly secretary, who never so much as set foot on the battlefield, was, in fact, the strongest soldier in their ranks. Quick and efficient, savage and brutal, when Saïx fought, it almost seemed natural. As though he belonged there, drenched in blood and shredding through bodies like a madman.

He didn’t know when or how Isa had possibly learned how to summon that kind of strength, but then again, perhaps he didn’t know quite as much about his old friend as he had presumed. Almost twenty years had passed since their original deaths in the laboratory. In those two decades, Isa had grown out his hair as well as his vocabulary. He’d developed from a taciturn boy to a confident and powerful man, whose silence belied not weakness but a sharp and wicked tongue. His words cut like broken glass, even when he carried himself in beauty and grace. He’d become so beautiful. 

But what else, Lea wondered, had changed in that time? 

Did Isa still separate the items on his dinner plate by shape and color? If Lea took his own plate and swirled everything into a formless casserole, would Isa still scold him? Or was he a lost cause? Had Isa lost so much faith in him over the years that he wouldn’t even bother to correct him? 

Within the course of thirty seconds, Lea asked himself all of those questions and more and realized that he didn’t have a single answer. It came to him, then, a rush of realization, crashing in like a tidal wave, that after befriending Roxas, he’d never shared another meal with Isa again.

Instead, he must have started eating with –

Though he knew it wasn’t justified, a pang of jealousy thundered through his heart as he pictured Isa, sitting under a sea of stars, spellbound, as Xemnas poured him sweet, red wine from across their candlelit dinner table. 

He felt nauseous, as he wondered if Xemnas and Saix always ate together. He wondered if they shared a room, if they shared clothing, if they shared a bath – 

It disgusted him that the one persistent thought which plagued his mind, permeating above all other earthly worries, was whether Isa had lost his virginity in Xemnas’s bedroom. 

During their short, summer romance, Isa must have asked to spend the night at least two or three times every week. Tortured by the stigma and the incompatibility of their bodies, however, every single time, Lea shuffled through his mess of convenient excuses and picked a random one every time, always turning him away, in the end. He had dinner to make. He had a headache. He had to go water his grandmother’s flowers. 

It wasn’t until recently that Lea began to theorize that perhaps all of those continuous rejections had taken a toll on Isa’s confidence. He realized that he should have told his old friend the truth: that it wasn’t him or what he wasn’t, what he did or didn’t do. Lea just wasn’t ready; it really was as simple as that.

Wincing, Lea clutched at his chest, certain that he’d felt the physical pain of their separation and the strain of his loss. 

“…I told you to watch over him.” Lea’s voice quivered. 

Without Kairi sitting by his side, reminding him of his duties and his promise to Roxas, surely, he would have already lost himself to grief. His throat clenched, as he swallowed hard around the solid lump in his throat. He could just barely summon the restraint to stop himself from screaming. 

From across the coffee table in Ansem’s lab, Ienzo sat on the sofa, with Dilan and Aeleus standing like marble statues, frozen by his side. Wordlessly, with a pleasant, meaningless smile, all formalities, Ienzo poured him a fresh cup of tea and set it beside his first two servings, gone untouched after almost an hour.

Lea took a deep, shuddering breath, calmed only by Kairi’s hand, placed gently on his knee. Invisible fingers crushed his throat, snapping the bones and crunching into the cartilage, and yet Lea forced himself to speak in pained, hushed whispers, all for Isa’s sake.

“I told you to protect him because I knew he’d try to do something like this. I knew that he’d get himself in trouble trying to run after Xemnas or me. I knew it because that’s exactly what he did for _her_ , back when we were kids.” Cold reality trickled down his veins, raising goosebumps on his skin. “A love like that: it’s everything he’s ever wanted. He’d never be able to go back to sleeping alone after… sharing his bed with Xemnas. Because Isa – he isn’t as strong, or independent, or apathetic as you think he is. Under that shell, he’s… he’s sensitive. All he’s ever wanted was someone to hold his hand and take the lead.” Burying his hands in his hair and tugging furiously at the strands, Lea hung his head so low, that it came inches away from dipping beneath his spread knees. “I was so afraid of having to do that for him. But if I’d known that he’d let Xemnas walk him into his grave, I would’ve –”

“Lea,” Kairi whispered – her thumb, rubbing gentle circles into the side of his knee. “Don’t do this to yourself. We have to focus on what we _can_ do. Not what we could have or should have done. You’ll drive yourself crazy thinking like that.”

“I can’t help it, when we could’ve saved him. Just a little bit longer, just a _little_ , and after all these years, we could’ve finally freed ourselves from this Organization bullshit!” Growling, he kicked at the table, sending cups and saucers clattering, spilling tea onto the carpet. A single muscle twitched in Ienzo’s jaw, a ghost of a scowl, though somehow, he maintained his silence through all of Lea’s earthquakes. “We were going to wake up from this nightmare and move on with our lives. _Together._ It’s just… It’s not fair. Me and Isa, we were just kids. We didn’t know anything about hearts or darkness, but somehow, we’re the ones that got dragged into this mess up until the very end. It’s not fair that _you three_ get to walk away when Isa can’t!” he shouted, swiping his arm out at Ienzo, Dilan, and Aeleus, as though he could erase them from existence with a single movement. “This is your fault… It’s _your_ fault! I told you to protect him! Why did you ever let him out of your sight? How could you ever let him escape?”

By instinct, the second Lea dared to raise his voice, Aeleus and Dilan hunched forward, ready to subdue him at a moment’s notice, as though he were a wild animal, violent and unpredictable. Not that he blamed them for thinking the worst of him, when he must have looked wretched. Wracked with guilt and crippling anxiety, Lea hadn’t slept in days. He rubbed at his face, scratching his palm against uneven patches of wiry, red stubble.

“What did you expect me to do?” Ienzo retorted. “Did you want me to send Dilan and Aeleus to beat him within an inch of his life? To drag him back to the laboratory by his broken ankle?” 

Somehow, that slow and steady tone, self-assured, cut him far more deeply than any visible display of anger ever could. Lea withered under his gaze, shrinking back under the crushing weight of Ienzo’s judgement.

“…You shouldn’t have let him out of this lab in the first place.”

“And how was I supposed to get him to stay? Should I have followed Xehanort’s example and locked him in a cage? Or would you have preferred for me to keep Isa permanently sedated, handcuffed to his bed like a criminal? Did you want me to place him into a coma? To hook him to feeding tubes and catheters until you deigned to grace him with your presence?”

“N-No,” Lea sighed, running his hand through his oily, unkempt hair. “Of course I wouldn’t want that. …But you really couldn’t have just… convinced him to stay? How hard could that be?”

“Believe me when I say that I did everything I could. We all did,” he reassured him. “We tried to make him comfortable, we tried to talk to him, to entertain him – but Isa is not so far removed from the Saïx with whom we are all painfully familiar, Lea. Even with his heart returned to him, Isa is… a distant and chronically dissatisfied individual.” 

“He didn’t want to be friends,” Aeleus added, to which Ienzo only nodded his agreement.

“He’s right. Isa wasn’t interested in our friendship in the slightest. Despite our multiple attempts to engage him in social activities and casual conversation, he never responded to our advances. Not once, which is troubling behavior, especially in a fully developed adult. It suggests poor social development and an equally poor prognosis for the future. Even if we were to separate him from Xemnas, I’m not entirely convinced that Isa could ever be fully rehabilitated into a normal, functioning member of our society. He is callous and cynical. Selfish and asocial. The only things that ever occupied his mind during his stay in this mansion were you and Xemnas. Near constant worrying over the two of you. He was a lost cause from the very start.”

Hearing Ienzo talking about Isa like that: as though he were a test subject. As though he were an annoyance, a _monster_. Something within Lea snapped. Green eyes widened as his heart sank into the pit of his stomach. 

“…I know what this is about.”

“Pardon?”

“You never liked Isa, did you?” he accused, his voice, steadily growing in speed and intensity. “None of you did. None of you _ever_ did! You… You don’t give a damn whether he ever comes back! This is all _your fault_ that –”

“You’re right – I’ve always _hated_ that little wanker, and the only reason I’d ever go to his funeral is to piss on his grave. But if it’s anyone’s ‘fault’ he left, it’s yours!” Dilan snapped, derailing Lea’s anger before it truly gained traction. “Do you want to know what I really think, Lea? I think that there are a lot of factors that contributed to why Isa left. Maybe Aeleus wasn’t always gentle with him. Maybe Isa hated needles, and Ienzo pricked him one too many times. Maybe Xemnas was a manipulative bastard that fed him juicy little lies, and maybe it’s Isa’s fault for gobbling them up. Or hell – maybe Xemnas just has a fat cock, and Isa loves the way it feels, jabbing around in his gut. But do you know what? No matter why he ultimately decided to leave, the fact of the matter is that you were the only one who would have ever been able to talk him out of it. You were the one he was waiting for. _You_ let him down. Not us. Do you hear me? Ienzo didn’t drive Isa out. Xemnas didn’t come and snatch him from his bedroom window. Isa only wizened up and realized that you weren’t someone worth waiting for.”

“Dilan…” Ienzo stammered, lightly clutching at his bodyguard’s jacket, silently begging him to calm down.

“Don’t you ‘Dilan’ me. I am sick and tired of sitting around, sipping tea, and reiterating the same points over and over. And for what? To cushion the blow to Lea’s bloody ego. He’s a grown man. He should damn well know that he’s the reason why Isa is as good as dead.”

His ears were ringing, and his vision tunneled. Kairi gripped onto his shoulder, shaking him. 

“Lea?” her voice echoed, quiet and distant, as though his head were underwater, as though he were drowning, and Kairi was calling to him from a shore that he simply couldn’t reach. “Lea, are you okay?”

He wondered if that was how Isa had felt, all those years ago. 

Drowning. 

Pulled underwater by the force of the tide and the weight of his own, lifeless body. In Isa’s nightmares, was it _Axel’s_ voice, calling his name? Had Isa lost the will to swim back to him? Surely, he had, when Xemnas’s voice overpowered his own. His tendrils, grabbing onto his ankles and pulling him further into the murky ocean depths, to a place, lost and forgotten in shadow, where even the sun’s light could never reach him. Surely, there was comfort in the darkness and catharsis in death, after a lifetime of struggling to keep his head above the waves. 

He wondered what was happening to Isa, then. While Lea was sitting at a table, surrounded by friends, was Isa alone? He was lucky to have Kairi, with tears in her eyes, and Dilan, looking so worried, as though he knew he’d gone too far. Ienzo, with his head buried in his palm, and Aeleus, pouring him a fourth cup of tea.

He couldn’t help but imagine that Isa was out there, somewhere lying in his grave, awake and aware, and so broken down that he didn’t even struggle when Xemnas started shoveling in the dirt. 

\-------

For thirty seconds in the quiet stillness of the morning, the moon, stars, and planets would align… and Saïx could forget. He floated through the night in a haze of poppy. Hydromorphone, snapping the wires of his weary brain. Exhaustion, smothering the sparks, slamming the breaks on his thoughts and memories, sending them crashing against the confines of his skull. They shattered apart in slow motion, thousands of glittering fragments, drifting down like stardust.

It was a wonderful and soothing numbness, far removed from the horrors that he had suffered at Ienzo’s hands. Under the influence of those tiny, unsuspecting little pills, Saïx could move whenever he desired; he just never felt the inclination. There was no need to flee, no reason to panic, when everything was perfectly fine. 

It wasn’t as though he’d forgotten. 

Even at his best and dullest, Saïx was still perfectly aware of the fact that his life had taken a steep and irreversible downturn. But for thirty seconds every morning, finally, he didn’t feel a single spark of desire to tug at the blades protruding from his back. The betrayal, the lies, the crushing, overwhelming sadness never disappeared so much as they simply… ceased to factor into his life. 

For thirty seconds every morning, nothing mattered, and Saïx was alright. Content to lie in his burning bed until his soft, pale skin seared black as coal. Cracking open a single eye, he could watch in tender silence as the fat melted from his bones, trickling down his joints in rivulets. Gooey chunks of tendon slid onto his funeral pyre with an echoing squelch. His clothing melded into his flesh, cloth becoming one with exposed muscle, red hot, and he didn’t bother to struggle. 

He was burning down alongside his home, with the memory of the man he’d loved, but he’d waited so long to escape, the door was just too hot to touch. He could close his eye and relax.

He didn’t panic, when he still had time; Saïx could start screaming again in thirty seconds.

“Good morning, Love.” A familiar, gentle voice, the voice of his lover and caretaker, his king and his god, roused him from his slumber. “Did you sleep well?”

Calloused hands rubbed life back into his old, aching bones. Though Saïx wasn’t even forty years old, he felt as though he’d been cursed to wander the earth for eternity, lost in the desert. With eighteen seconds left, he squeezed his eyes shut tight and nuzzled against Xemnas’s palm, stroking gently against his cheek. 

“I know…” his lover cooed, brushing the hair from his forehead. “You must be exhausted after your mission, my poor dear. Such grievous wounds… Worry not, for you will refamiliarize yourself with your abilities as a Nobody, soon enough. Forget your troubles and enjoy your breakfast.”

Keeping true to his promise, Xemnas served him breakfast in bed on a little silver tray, just as he did every morning. Despite the frequency of Xemnas’s offerings, however, impressively, Saïx had never been served the same meal twice. No matter how small, there was always some variation at play: a twist to keep him guessing. Pesto this and creme fraiche that. A cocktail or sometimes even two, just to make the days seem shorter. According to Xemnas, Saïx deserved the variety – to have something fun, and new, and exciting every single day for the rest of his remarkably short life.

The food was always good, and Xemnas was always so eager to please him. To rush to his rescue and tend to his every single need.

He hated it.

The conflicting messages, that dangerous fondness and the caustic little kisses scrambled his logic, lobotomizing him more effectively than any drug ever could. Worst of all was the fact that he fell for the little mating ritual every single time: Xemnas, fanning out his tail feathers, a thousand brilliant colors, to hold him like a spell. He couldn’t help but fall victim to the performance. At the end of the day, despite his strength and his magic, regardless of his accomplishments, Saïx was still only a man. 

A simple mammal, facing off against a veritable demon that knew his every desire like the back of his hand, constantly screening for chinks in his armor. He didn’t know how he did it. Every word, every touch, pierced through the cracks with pinpoint precision. 

…He loved him. 

Only in the rare, short moments when he had some time to himself would Saïx realize just how far he’d fallen. But he was no fool; he wasn’t under any misconceptions. Punishing himself wouldn’t turn him into someone more worthy of love and genuine companionship. Xemnas was the best that he could ever hope to have. If he’d already tasted the poison, he may as well lick the plate. 

And so, without protest, Saïx let Xemnas feed him and brush his hair. He invited his demon into his bed, letting Xemnas fuck him until he forgot his own name. He even let him hold him afterwards, cooing over him as though he were something good and wonderfully precious. 

It wouldn’t hurt his pride until later, and even then, it didn’t truly matter.

Saïx could slam his fist into the bathroom mirror again and again, and Xemnas would always be there to pick the glass from his knuckles and press his hand to his lips, staining them a beautiful, glistening crimson. 

He loved him.

The breakfast that morning was as good as it always was, when Xemnas had memorized each and every one of his culinary preferences, right down to the temperature and the plating. 

Everything was perfect… until Xemnas fed him a spoonful of something saccharinely sweet. Saïx _cringed_ , startling awake to full, engaged consciousness. By reflex, he pressed his hand against his mouth and wretched, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he struggled to keep down the bubbling bile in his stomach. When his blurry vision cleared and he finally caught his breath, Saïx focused down on the target of his ire: a brown, formless mass in the corner of the silver tray. He leaned in closer, squinting. Whatever it was, it appeared to be sticky, burnt, moist, and grainy, all at once. It was falling apart at the edges.

“…What is _that_?”

Was it “medicine?” Something to further his progression into something entirely foreign, with white hair and golden eyes?

“It is an offering from Xehanort,” Xemnas explained with an apologetic smile. “Pancakes. They are somewhat burnt, and clearly more suited to a child’s tastes than yours –” That much was apparent; they were drowning in syrup and swirls of melted butter. “But he insisted that I serve them to you, regardless.”

“Are you talking about the boy?” 

He certainly couldn’t imagine that such a horrific offering could come from the old man. He’d met him only in passing. Golden eyes trained on each other as they stalked in opposite directions through the hall. They never exchanged a single word, and yet, from the way that Master Xehanort looked at him – as though he were nothing more than a slab of meat, as though he couldn’t wait to wear his skin – Saïx couldn’t help but develop the impression that was a cruel, twisted old man, more likely to serve up his head than a stack of lumpy, misshapen pancakes.

“Indeed. Xehanort the boy. He has judged, from observation, that the quickest route to earning your approval is through performing romantic acts of service. I had considered scraping this monstrosity of a breakfast dish into the wastebasket the moment he handed it to me, but I decided, at the end, to give you the opportunity to criticize him honestly. He wants to please you, my dear, but, clearly, he lacks the ability to do so. It is a foolish, puerile infatuation that he holds for you – though perhaps an amusing one, in its own right.” 

Infatuation? 

It wasn’t an unreasonable prospect.

Wherever Saïx turned, Xehanort was never far behind. The boy must have been seventeen, perhaps eighteen years of age. Certainly no older than twenty, considering his immaturity. Overly confident, taking every opportunity to brag about his intellect and to showcase his unimpressive talents, even when Saïx was far too broken down and tired to feign interest. 

“That’s rather odd,” Saïx commented. “You share a consciousness, and yet you don’t seem particularly fond of him.”

“We _stem_ from the same consciousness,” Xemnas clarified, sounding so insistent, so intent in his passion, that for a moment, Saïx wondered if he’d found a weakness of his own to exploit at his leisure. “But we are each our different branches, and I do not appreciate it when others, even my peers, tread upon my territory.”

“Your territory… Is that what I am to you?”

The old Xemnas would have lied through his teeth in order to save his own skin, but ever since the night when the idyllic concept of their peaceful, fragile little family of two had rotted away and withered, Xemnas had been surprisingly, refreshingly, honest with him. 

“Is it so terrible of me to think of you as such?” he asked, stroking his thumb along Saïx’s jawline. “You are my heart. I wish to protect you. To lock you away and keep you for myself. Mine for all eternity, to hold and to cherish until time itself loses meaning. You are the most important man in my life, Saïx. I only want to be yours.” 

Saïx didn’t understand why Xemnas was always so insistent on that fact when there _were_ no other people in his life. He wasn’t like Axel, who had his friends, and who never struggled to make more, no matter where he turned. 

All Saïx had was Xemnas. 

“…Is everything alright?” Xemnas asked, as he cleared up the utensils and set the silver tray aside. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pressed the back of his hand against Saïx’s forehead, checking for fever. “Have I displeased you?”

“No,” he lied, turning away before Xemnas could discern any more of his lingering melancholy. “What are your plans for today?” he asked, eager to change the subject.

“I am to travel to Twilight Town with Ansem. We have a target to acquire and a message that we must convey to the forces of light. Why do you ask?” 

“I… want you to stay with me.” 

Saïx caught the subtle shift in his expression: the softening smile and dilating pupils. Leaning down to press a kiss against his forehead, Xemnas fluffed his pillows and lingered by his bedside. With the implementation of the Organization’s grand scheme, they had other, more important duties at hand. For that reason, Saïx had anticipated an apologetic rejection and a promise for a future date, but instead, kicking off his boots and unzipping his coat, Xemnas slid beneath the blankets, to take his rightful place by his side. 

“As you wish. I am yours.”

As though by second nature, Saïx clung to him the moment he drew closer. He couldn’t help it, when Xemnas always validated his behavior with warm, gentle kisses and that firm, steady touch, stroking down his back and erasing his fears from existence, itself. 

___________________________________

“Have you thought about what you’ll do if Master Xehanort sends Isa out to fight you?” Kairi asked, as they shared sea salt ice cream on Twilight Town’s clocktower, all in Roxas’s memory – and in the shared memory of someone else, entirely. A warm, ethereal presence, tugging at his mind. Someone so precious to him it wrenched his heart just to think about her. Whomever she was, whenever he was with Kairi, the lost, forgotten memories pulsed and twisted, taking shape until he could almost, just barely recall her smile. The sound of her voice and her soft, ringing laughter.

It was a heavy burden that fell on his shoulders: to remember her, to bring Roxas back to life, and to rescue Isa from a man who had seduced him with pretty words and false promises. When Axel finally saved them all, they would have to get ice cream together, too. All four of them. Five, if he counted Kairi.

“You really think Xehanort would use him against me like that?” he chuckled, already knowing the answer. “Turning friends against each other… now, that’s a level of evil I don’t ever want to be able to understand.”

“Just because you don’t want to understand it doesn’t mean it won’t happen,” Kairi gently scolded, all for his own good. “It’s the smartest move for the Organization. If you’re the one who’s forced to fight Isa, they know you’ll hold back, whether you intend to or not. It’s hard to fight a friend. I know you don’t want to hurt him.”

“Oh, I couldn’t hurt him even if I tried,” Axel replied with echoing, self-depreciating laughter. “When I left the Organization, I told Isa that if Xemnas ever sent him after me, I’d let him get a few cheap hits in, just to make us even. The funny thing is, though, that when I said that, I never would’ve thought that Isa could fight the way he does. He was always this wimpy kid, you know? And he didn’t get much taller, as an adult. He grew out his hair, and it’s always styled; he looks so… dainty. But do you know what? As it turns out, he’s tougher than I could ever be. He’s faster than me, and stronger than me – and, hell, he’s always been smarter. I’m the one who needs a handicap, here.” 

“I’m not so sure about that,” Kairi argued, smiling up at him with blinding faith. “You’re stronger than you think – and I’m sure that this fight will be hard for Isa, too, even if he’s good at hiding it. I’m sure that somewhere deep down, he still thinks the world of you.”

“I appreciate you saying that, really, but I’m pretty sure it’s not true. He probably thinks I’m an ass. I’ve let him down one too many times over the years.”

“Then be there for him, now. Even if we win, it doesn’t mean that everything will be okay right away. Isa will probably need a lot of help getting used to life without Xemnas.”

“Do you think so?” Axel asked, scratching at his messy, red hair. “I mean, I know that he loves him, but Xemnas won’t be there to pull his strings anymore. You don’t think he’ll be able to snap out of it?”

Kairi let out a quiet, pensive sigh. Pausing for a moment, she looked off into the distance, tugging at her skirt as she carefully pieced her words together. “I’m sure that he will – but I think that it will take a long time. From what you’ve told me about him and Xemnas, it sounds like Isa really relies on him. Maybe not physically, but emotionally. Even if Xemnas is just using him, now, and even if Isa knows it and Xemnas isn’t always his favorite person in the world anymore, I think that it’ll be hard for him to walk away, when he’s invested so much of himself into whatever it is that they have together. You have to keep in mind that after Xemnas is defeated, Isa won’t have a body to bury. I’m sure he’ll be grieving, and he won’t get any closure. Life is going to be hard for him; he’s really going to need your help.”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to try my best,” he chuckled, rubbing at the back of his neck. 

To his surprise, Kairi actually sneered at him. She looked so disappointed, furrowing her little eyebrows and twisting her lips into a cute little frown that was somehow intimidating, despite her soft and gentle features.

“That’s not good enough, Axel. I’m sorry to say this, but when it comes to Isa, your best, so far, has kind of been disappointing. You’ll really have to work hard this time. You’ll have to exceed than the expectations that you’ve already set for yourself – and I know you can do it. But you’ll have to step up if you want to help Isa. Can you promise me that?”

Despite the bite of her cold, harsh truths, Axel forced on a smile, falsely confident, even if his appreciation was sincere. “Okay. I promise. If Xehanort sends Isa after me – which he probably will – I’ll face him, man to man. And I’m going to win because losing just isn’t an option.” 

“That’s the spirit!”

“And when Isa wakes up,” he continued, “I’ll finally have the chance to apologize for everything. For leaving him behind when the going got tough and for letting him stay with Xemnas when I knew I should have taken him with me. It’s going to be different after we win, but I’m going to become someone that Isa can depend on.” 

He thought about everything that they’d gone through together: death at sixteen years old and rebirth into a new, foreign world. Learning that everything they’d known had been a lie and realizing that they could never go home. Wasting the years away as incomplete beings, with only each other and their history to remind them of their time in the sun. 

How horrible it must have been, for Isa to be left behind in shadow, watching Axel relive his youth with Roxas and his forgotten third friend. 

How terribly it must have hurt.

Kairi offered him another ice cream bar, and he took it with a smile, even as his thoughts churned. Though he knew that there was little point to such dismal speculation, Axel couldn’t stop himself from thinking of the horrors that Isa was enduring alone. 

While he was eating ice cream with a loyal friend, what was Isa doing, at that very moment?

Was he afraid? Was he in pain? 

Shaking off the dread, he bit into his ice cream and lost himself to the taste and the memory of childhood. He couldn’t focus on thoughts of Isa’s suffering. He couldn’t let himself, when the anxiety was more than enough to drive him to lunacy. 

\-------

The final battle drew near, and yet, instead of preparing for the most perilous, exhilarating fight to put his past four lives to shame, Saïx sat in a pool of his own sweat, half-unconscious, on a gas station bench. He squeezed his eyes closed and slowed his breathing, trying, in vain, to conserve energy. To delay his inevitable descent into delirium and heat stroke. 

“Here, Love,” Xemnas called, handing him a cold can of beer and rousing him from oblivion. “Enjoy it. It is the very last beer in this establishment.”

The sun’s glare, reflecting off of the silver can and burning into his retinas, held him mesmerized. Saïx had never been so overheated before in his entire life. Sighing, he held the can in both hands, praying, through some miracle of the gods, that the coolness of the beer would travel up his arms and spread like a disease. At the very least, he hoped that it would spread to his legs.

That bench may as well have been a frying pan, searing the bottoms of his thighs like bacon, and yet Saïx was just too tired to stand. He was too tired to think, to breathe, and even to shove Xemnas’s heavy body away when he felt the need to slink down onto the bench, sitting so close to him that their thighs and shoulders were touching. Like a blazing star, Xemnas’s body heat radiated off of him in waves. Trapped in the unforgiving, desert heat, the two of them had discarded their dignity long ago, right alongside their dark robes and boots, tossed haphazardly into the back seat of their rented, luxury sports car. 

Trading their Organization uniforms for salmon colored shorts and floral, button up shirts, for sunglasses, sandals, and messy, poorly tied buns, the two of them were positively bourgeois. 

“I fear that we are going to be trapped in this primitive gas station for quite some time,” Xemnas added, much to Saïx’s horror. “The mechanic offered an estimated repair time of… approximately three hours. The air-conditioning unit is broken, and the fridge is out of everything but artificially flavored children’s fruit beverages.”

“…Is that so?” Saïx asked behind clenched teeth. “How… very… unfortunate…”

It took every last shred of his discipline to stop himself from going absolutely berserk, slamming his claymore down against cars and gas pumps with indiscriminate, impotent rage. Instead, Saïx forced himself to reign in his temper. After all, Saïx’s inexcusable _stupidity_ was the sole reason why they were trapped in that filthy gas station, in the middle of that hellish, desert landscape, in the first place. It was all his fault. 

He was the one who destroyed the car and left them stranded.

“What are we going to do?” Saïx asked. 

“I have already paid the surcharge – or rather, the _bribe_ – for expedited repairs. Now, all that we can do is wait. Enjoy the beer, my love. Try to ration out your sips, if you can.”

Saïx hung his head in exhaustion and shame.

He should have never gotten behind that wheel. It was a lapse in his judgement. A singular moment of horrific immaturity for which he had suffered dearly. He would never recover from the indignity of losing control of the car and slamming it into a _cactus_ , of all things. Admittedly, he was speeding, and perhaps he was looking at Xemnas’s seashell necklace instead of the road, but how was it that he couldn’t avoid something that towered over him, over five times his standing height? Was he completely incompetent?

…Though of course he was. 

Saïx should have realized that from the very start. Suffering his first death when he was only sixteen years old, Saïx hadn’t even survived long enough to start studying for the driving theory test, much less to apply his knowledge in the practical exam. Taking to the road was an invitation for disaster, and yet when Saïx saw that car, rented by Xemnas on nothing more than a whim, his better judgement flew right out the window. 

He had to drive it. He couldn’t stop himself; he was only a man. Growing up as an ordinary boy from a middle-class family, in a dull, backwards town, Saïx could only dream of the moments that Xemnas effortlessly wove into reality. 

Even with those keys in his hands, Saïx couldn’t believe it: he was living the dream and loving it. 

When he’d followed Xemnas through that dark corridor two days ago, he’d expected to be swarmed by waves of Heartless or saddled with the burden of interfering in Sora’s mission, and yet instead… Xemnas had only turned to him and handed him a set of glimmering, silver keys. 

He’d planned a road trip, of all things, to send him off with a bang instead of a whimper. A final journey to serve as Saïx’s very last summer vacation and his very first in years, disguised as a productive, legitimate mission for Organization XIII. An adventure where the meaning lay in the journey instead of the destination. Before they departed, he’d been sworn to secrecy: to hide Xemnas’s actions even from Master Xehanort, who would have expected better of his disciples than drunken shenanigans. 

Even Saïx had expected better of himself – but that _sound_ … he couldn’t resist. The soft, singing jingle of those car keys, dangling from Xemnas’s fingers drew him in like a moth to the flame. 

Over the moon, Saïx had jumped in the driver’s seat, placed his hands on the wheel, and went back to being eight years old all over again, lost in simpler days. Playing back memories of lazy, weekend mornings in Lea’s garage, whittling down blocks of pinewood into painted race cars for the neighborhood derby. He’d send his obnoxious, bright blue monstrosities shooting down the tracks and he would imagine himself in the driver’s seat, every single time – propelling himself down endless stretches of open road with Lea right beside him, his red hair, flowing in the breeze as he screamed like a banshee. Saïx had always imagined that Lea’s fears of being forgotten would finally be assuaged, on the road. Careless and free, and always together, the world would never forget about them. 

Zooming down the road, setting off every speed camera with reckless abandon, running red lights and stop signs, knowing that he would never pay the tickets, Saïx realized that his little, childhood fantasy had come true. 

…Only it was Xemnas sitting by his side, in Axel’s stead.

Strangely enough, he found that he simply didn’t care. Despite everything that had happened between them, despite the lies and the trickery, Saïx found himself willing to forget his anger and bitterness, to release his grudges and live in the moment, if only for a single week in a world far, far away. 

And he wondered, silently, just what he was to Xemnas, after all. 

Surely, there were better uses of their time than roasting alive on a gas station bench. More pressing priorities than a shameful, hedonistic pleasure trip: two days on the road and five more in a beach cabana. A destination that they would likely never see, considering the damage that Saïx had inflicted upon their car. 

His teachers had always praised him as a quick study, but there was something inherently different about learning to balance accounts and learning how to send a two-ton vehicle, flying down the road after fifteen minutes of rushed instruction from Xemnas, who clearly paid more attention to Saïx’s beaming smile than to whether or not he had actually, truly absorbed any of his lessons.

…Which, clearly, he hadn’t.

It wasn’t how he’d wanted to remember his first time behind the wheel: slamming against a cactus and peeling himself off of an airbag. Even worse was the fact that Xemnas had insisted that _Saïx_ should remain in the car, guiding their path, and that _he_ should be the one to push them five, ten, fifteen kilometers, exposed to the hot, desert sun, towards the nearest gas station. 

Oh, they’d gotten a few looks, alright. Stares of wonder, awe, and amusement, at how one single, silver-haired man could push a car at such remarkable speed. By all means, they never travelled faster than a walking pace, but the fact that Xemnas could move that car at all was a shock.

Saïx stared down at that cold can of beer, and felt… ashamed, of all things. 

“No,” he replied, quickly handing the can back to Xemnas. “I can’t drink this. You deserve it more than I do. You’ve been pushing that car for the past two hours. You must be exhausted.”

Accepting the oblation, the beer of contrition, Xemnas popped open the can and took only a single sip, before handing it right back to him. 

“Even if I were, I would never admit it,” he replied with a charming smile, even as his chest heaved from the strain of physical exertion. “I am your lover, and with that honor comes great responsibility. I have to be dependable. I want to take care of you.”

Taking the lie so far… Saïx couldn’t help but appreciate the sentiment. 

“If you wanted to take care of me, you could cast a blizzard spell and envelop this accursed desert in a ten-year winter.”

Xemnas only tutted at him, waggling his finger as he smiled with gentle, endless fondness. “Ah, but do you remember our promise, Love? We agreed, before we embarked on our journey, that neither of us would rely upon magic in order to ease our burdens. We would fulfill the dream that you had once desired to share with the person you loved most in this world. We would travel together as an ordinary couple, relying upon nothing but each other.”

“It was a dream that Axel and I had wanted to fulfill ever since we were children,” Saïx explained, but before he could go into any further detail, Xemnas silenced him with a lingering kiss, soft and warm. 

“I find it rather disagreeable how often you mention his name,” Xemnas confessed with startling and shameless sincerity. Saïx’s eyes widened. He froze, dumbstruck. “You are only injuring yourself. Contemplating your history with Number VIII elicits nothing but pain, my dear. For your own good, I simply must recommend that you forget about him completely.”

…Saïx could hardly believe it. 

Was he _jealous_?

Though Xemnas’s smile never faltered, Saïx had spent enough time with him to notice the tenseness in his posture and that barely perceptible furrow of his brow. Clearly, he was irritated by something. A strange, twisted pride festered in the pit of Saïx’s stomach at the very thought of it: that he should be the one to inspire such strength of passion in a cold, callous man who had no heart.

He couldn’t repress his smile, dignified and proud, despite his unkempt appearance: his sweaty hair and his ridiculous, islander apparel that Xemnas had selected for him in secret.

“Very well. I won’t mention him again.”

“Excellent.”

Oh, it _was_ excellent. 

The temperature fell with the setting sun, and the repairs on their vehicle were completed thirty minutes earlier than anticipated. Despite the gas station owner’s staunch warnings to wait until daylight to resume their journey, ranting and raving about daemons and dangers that lurked in the darkness, they packed up their things, hopped in the car, and went on their way. 

After all, as two of the legendary thirteen darknesses, _they_ were the dangers.

Saïx tried to remind himself of that fact – that he was a powerful and competent Nobody, instead of a hopeless buffoon who’d crashed a car into a cactus. Satisfied with his short career as a failed racecar driver, Saïx was more than content to let Xemnas take the wheel. Classical music reverberated from their radio and out into the open, night sky above their convertible. As though sensing the danger, or perhaps realizing that the pair of travelling Nobodies had no hearts to devour, any so-called daemons steered clear of their vehicle, leaving them in peace as they drove on by.

Though they checked into the hotel a solid eight hours late, and though they’d incurred a steep penalty that even Xemnas wasn’t able to negotiate, the resort was so wonderful that even a born and bred contrarian like Saïx had lost all urges to complain.

The dock stretched on for miles, leading so far into the sea that when they looked back, all they saw was ocean. Dark, comforting blackness, reflecting the moon and countless, blazing seaside torches. 

It was no children’s resort; that much was certain.

The bar was opened past midnight, the resort staff, offering free ferry rides to the beach for drunken, helpless passengers who had sucked out the contents of one too many carved coconuts. 

Though Saïx was never particularly fond of piña coladas – they were far too sweet for his tastes – it just didn’t seem fitting in the moment and the atmosphere, both, to order anything else, much less his usual, joyless brandy or Xemnas’s smoky whiskey. 

“How is the piña colada, Love?” Xemnas asked as he sat beside him at the edge of on the docks, kicking off his sandals and dipping his feet through the water. He sat so close that their shoulders touched – and Saïx wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“It’s… sweet. I haven’t had a piña colada since I was a child.”

“You drank when you were a boy?” Xemnas teased, giving him a gentle, playful tap on the arm. “That explains your lofty tolerance.” 

“It was non-alcoholic,” he chuckeld. “There wasn’t a drop of liquor in my home. My father always detested earthy vices. Alcohol, cigarettes, gambling... He would always lecture me about how such petty evils could make a man lose control of himself.” 

“Considering your habits, it appears as though none of his lessons have taken root.” 

“No. They haven’t,” he replied with shameless confidence, as he took another sip of his drink.

“Were you close?” 

“No. He was a stern, traditional man with a concept of manhood and masculinity to which I could never adhere. I was more my mother’s child.”

“You say that, and yet I don’t believe that you ever went back to look for her during your time in the Organization. While I warned your peers against chasing after the ghosts of your past lives, in truth, I did not fully believe that you would ever heed my words.”

“There was no need to go back, in my case,” Saïx explained, smiling as Xemnas’s ankle brushed against his. “My mother passed shortly after Lea broke off his relationship with me. He didn’t come to her funeral, and he didn’t return my calls. Not until three months had passed, and… perhaps he deemed me well enough to rejoin his social circle without burdening him with unnecessary troubles.”

“I believe that I forbade you from mentioning that name, when it clearly upsets you so,” Xemnas warned, gentle yet stern. The concern in his voice tugged at his heartstrings. “I want your final days to be filled with love and joy. I want you to savor the time that you have remaining.”

“You make it difficult for me to do so, when you constantly remind me of my impending doom.”

“…I apologize.”

“There’s no need for that,” he reassured him. Setting down his coconut with its quickly melting contents, Saïx reached for Xemnas’s arm and linked it around his own, pulling in close. Decades later, when he would be nothing more than an echo in Xehanort’s consciousness, he wanted to be able to recall the closeness and warmth that he felt at that very moment. “I was blessed with a wonderful childhood with two friends who meant the world to me. I had a mother who loved me above all else. And then, when I had become convinced that I was destined to suffer through the course of my life in solitude, when I needed someone most, I found you. I know that I complain more often than I should, but I can’t deny that I’ve lived a good life.”

“A good life and a good death,” Xemnas remarked, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “Perhaps that is all that any of us can hope for.” 

“What about you?” he asked, spurred on by morbid curiosity and liquid courage. “Have you lived a good life?”

“No.” 

That wasn’t the answer that he’d been expecting. Saïx turned to him with a raised brow, though instead of seeing the perfect, beautiful smile that he had always come to expect from Xemnas, he almost looked… sad. 

“…No?”

“Xehanort’s memories are not truly my own, but I know their every twist and turn as if they were. I… possess the qualia,” Xemnas explained. “I remember a childhood, growing up on an island which bears remarkable similarity to this seashore. Golden sands, cloudless skies, and soothing, azure waves – though all without a partner with whom to share their beauty. To elevate simple weather patterns above the earthly plane and to gift them poetic significance. On the Destiny Islands, life loses all meaning, crawling by with a heavy and unforgivable lethargy. Xehanort’s peers… _my_ peers were simple tribesmen, uncultured and uneducated. When all that we needed came from the island, my people never developed a drive to overcome hardship. We never had anything more interesting to share with each other than… marriages, deaths, and births. No one cared to think. To strive for something better than what we had. My father had arranged a marriage for me and was perplexed as to why I protested. I remember the pain when… he slapped his palm against my cheek and told me to abandon my dreams of escaping the island and making something of myself. He told me that there was nothing beyond the sea. No new lands to explore and no new people to meet. Nothing to do and nothing to learn. The elders echoed his sentiment; my peers branded me a dissident and a fool, and yet, I refused to believe their words: that life begins and ends on the Destiny Islands. I had always known that I was meant for a greater fate than gathering coconuts and fishing for clams, trapped into marrying a woman whom I did not… love.”

Xemnas paused, then, eyelids lowering, as he hesitantly pressed the tips of his fingers against his chest. 

“What is it?” Saïx asked, glancing at his face to discern some kind of hidden, ghost of an emotion. 

“I do not possess the qualia of what love could possibly be… but I realize, now, that I am fully aware of what it is not.”

Though he wanted, more than anything, to ask Xemnas whether he loved him, Saïx held his tongue and allowed their conversation to fade into comforting, natural silence. After all, he was soon destined to die, and he didn’t want to march to his grave, plagued with sorrow and uncertainty. 

Instead, Saïx preferred to draw his own, selfish and presumptuous conclusions. The time to act was nigh, and yet, instead of making his own preparations for the final battle, Xemnas chose to take his time, holding his hand at the end of the world. Whatever label others affixed to the relationship that they shared, one thing was certain: love meant sacrifice. 

And no one had ever given up as much for him as Xemnas had, through words, actions, and vulnerability. Xemnas could deny it all he liked: if that wasn’t love, Saïx didn’t know the meaning, either.

“Saïx,” Xemnas called to him, leading him out of his reverie.

“Yes? What is it?”

“When the fated time arrives, do you believe that you will have the mental fortitude to cross blades with Number VIII?”

“I thought that you didn’t want me to mention his name in your presence ever again,” he retorted, with a teasing smile.

“My intention is to spare you the pain of remembrance.” Xemnas straightened his back, looking so dignified, even against a backdrop of torches and empty oyster shells. “But before we proceed with our plans, I must know whether you can do this.” 

“Are you afraid that I will disappoint you? That I will fail to uphold to my vows to Xehanort?”

“I am afraid that you will suffer, Saïx,” Xemnas answered, defying his expectations. “If it will pain you to face Number VIII in combat, then I gladly offer to take your place.” 

“Were you not intended to stand with Xehanort and Ansem as the Organization’s final line of defense? We cannot risk –”

“We can.” 

He froze, silver tongue turned to lead, frozen by the strength of Xemnas’s resolve.

“You would betray Xehanort?”

“I would rather betray him than betray your trust in me. If I can prevent it, I would not allow your final moments to be spent in fear and agony. Allow me to be the one to strike down your former companion. There is no need to stain your hands with Number VIII’s blood. Stand with Xehanort and Ansem deeper in the Graveyard. I will join you when the deed is done.” An unreadable, pensive expression fell across Xemnas’s features; Saïx only wished he could know what he was truly thinking. “And even if I should fall, Xehanort is… incredibly fond of you. He will defend you in battle. I am certain of it.”

“That won’t be necessary. I don’t want you to die on my behalf. Not because of my cowardice.”

“There is nothing cowardly about being reluctant to slay a childhood friend, even one to whom you are no longer close.”

“Perhaps. But I have my own incentive for taking up arms against Axel.”

The old Xemnas, the snake and the manipulator, would have been content with that answer, when it led to the result that furthered his ambitions. Now, however, he paused, gripping onto his hand like a vice. 

“…And what is that?” he asked, his voice, so quiet that it melded into the gentle push and pull of the waves.

“I want to judge the extent of his indifference. I want to know whether this battle will be as difficult for him as it is for me.”

“But you will be forced to fight to the death. Saïx, do you understand that, if you emerge victorious, you will have no choice but to kill him?”

“I do. And I am prepared for that possibility,” he answered with calm confidence. “I will watch his body splinter beneath my claymore and finally know, for certain, that there are no second chances and no going back. My ties with Axel will be severed, for good or for ill. …I won’t have to live with the consequences for long, regardless.”

“Saïx…”

“Do you pity me?”

“No,” he answered. “On the contrary, I admire your resolve. I look at you and wonder how a creature as pitiful as _I_ could have ever been worthy to stand by your side. My love, I want you to allow me to aid you during your battle. I will come to you when I can, and we will stand against Number VIII together.”

“That won’t be necessary. I have to face my fears alone. You can come to me if you would like, but unless I explicitly ask for your aid, I request that you do not interfere in my personal affairs. …Can you do that for me?”

“If that is your wish.” Xemnas looked at him with clear concern, which slowly melded into a peacefully resigned smile. Glowing with all the ethereal beauty of the moon itself, Xemnas’s devotion filled him with hope, and Saïx couldn’t help but mirror his expression. “But you will never be alone in spirit. Wherever your consciousness may travel and regardless of what fate may befall us, both, in the end, never doubt that you were my most precious treasure. If the proverbs of heaven and hell hold merit, then, when it is my time to pass from this world, surely, where you have gone, I cannot follow. But I selfishly hope, against all odds, to be blessed with the honor and the privilege of being your lover once again, in the next life.”

“…So do I.”

Without warning, Xemnas took his hands in his, guiding his body towards him. Saïx had thought that he was going to lean in for a kiss, but instead, Xemnas only smiled, perfectly still.

“I… wanted to look at you,” Xemnas stated, suddenly. “In the shadow of death, I realize, now, that we have spent so much time on action and conversation that we never took the time to simply… look at each other.” 

Xemnas’s touch – his gentle hand, engulfing his own, those fingers, tracing down his cheek – felt somehow more intimate than all of the passionate nights they’d shared together over the years. He felt vulnerable under those discerning, golden eyes. They sat together in silence, watching neither the stars nor the ocean, but mesmerized only by each other. Studying his features, Saïx carved a little, tiny room into his mind, to house his precious memories of Xemnas for as long as the fates would allow.


	10. Chapter 10

Inspired by the heartfelt sentimentality of Kairi’s unsent letters, Axel chose to walk in her footsteps, condensing his own hopes and dreams into words, though perhaps none were quite as eloquent as hers. Jerking his pen across notebook paper in timid, shaky cursive, his chicken scratch painted a stark contrast to his memory of Isa’s perfect penmanship. Axel hadn’t seen a use for calligraphy; he’d slept through all of his high school penmanship classes. If only he’d devoted more attention to his homework than to spitballs and bubblegum, perhaps he wouldn’t be trapped in his current predicament. 

Perhaps he, too, could have learned the intricacies of romanticism that would have held the potential to tether Isa’s heart to his. Enraptured by the beauty of their teacher’s calligraphy, inspiration shot through Isa’s heart like lightning. Emerald eyes blown wide, he’d awoken to his very first jolt of wonder: the marvels of art, striking back against his dull, little world of predictable people and joyless conversation. 

Calligraphy was outdated and unfashionable, suited more for retirement homes than high schools, but Isa had poured his heart and soul into his handwriting, all the same. Everything he’d ever written since that class, from twenty-page reports to two-item grocery lists, featured words leaping forward in time from the realm of horse-powered wagons and cobbled streets. 

In truth, Axel still didn’t see the appeal. 

He only knew that the beauty of calligraphy had called to something deep within the depths of Isa’s heart, resonating with the part of him that was more than just a simple, small town boy with scrapes on his knees and dirt beneath his fingernails. No, from the very beginning, Isa was an old soul, longing for forgotten days of simplicity and warmth. He must have read through every classic novel in their school library at least once, just to lose himself in the scent of aged paper and gothic imagery. Standing in the moors, drenched by the storm, overlooking endless forests. 

A polonaise in the sunset. 

Axel realized only recently that he shouldn’t have relied on online book summaries to pass his literature classes.

If only he hadn’t, then perhaps he would have noticed, earlier on, that Xemnas wrote in cursive, too. More importantly, perhaps he would have realized the significance of it. The devil was in the details, hidden in metaphors and vague foreshadowing. Xemnas was the only man he’d ever met whose handwriting rivaled Isa’s in its elegance. Of course that would have meant something to him.

…Of course it did.

He should have read the books, and he should have learned calligraphy. 

According to Kairi, however, it was never too late to start learning. With that fact in mind, Axel had written hundreds of letters in sloppy cursive: simpering apologies to appeal to Isa’s pity, short stories to move his spirit, and funny little jokes to bring him joy, if he still had the ability to feel it. Late in the night, Axel would whisper the syllables in silence and solitude, preparing himself for the fateful day when he would have the opportunity to recite the words with confidence. When he and Isa would be able to trade jokes instead of blows on the battlefield. 

When that day came, he had to be ready. Careless words were just as lethal as poison, when it came to Isa.

He’d been contemplating the mystery for months, now: just what antiquated words in what romantic combination would call to Isa’s heart and bring forth all their wonderful memories into the light. With Kairi and even Yen Sid’s revisions, he’d written a proper essay for their inevitable reunion in the Keyblade Graveyard. To ensure that he was ready, he practiced it three times a night in front of his mirror until he’d had every word and meaningful pause memorized like his very own name. 

It had been perfect. A heartfelt soliloquy, a rush of emotion, to bring Isa back to him. 

He'd waited all that time to recite his plea, he’d prepared, and he’d practice, but at the very first sight of long, blue hair and golden eyes, Axel’s mind went blank. By the gods’ generosity, he had been granted a divine opportunity to set things right, and yet he was wasting it. 

In the end, Axel just didn’t know what to say. 

Meters away from an atom bomb, he stood helpless in blinding heat, the force of fire, death, and famine. His tongue caught on his dry, chapped lips, and he improvised, speaking from the heart. 

“I’ve been having these dreams lately,” he chuckled, drawing closer. Isa’s unreadable expression provided no guidance as to whether Axel was slowly bridging the gap between them or if he’d only dug it deeper. “I’d be standing in this Graveyard, waiting for the world to end, when the tiny, shadow of a person would turn the corner. It would start walking towards me over the horizon, and it would get bigger and bigger… until I’d see that it was you. I’d be so relieved it wasn’t Xehanort. I’d smile, and wave, and call your name. And you’d call mine – with one too many syllables. Leia. And… it would be then that I’d take a closer look, and I’d realize that your hair had turned white, and you didn’t actually recognize me anymore.” Axel only laughed because the only other option was giving in to his sorrow. “I never told anyone, but after those dreams, I’d always wake up in a pool of my own sweat, so freezing cold, I’d be covered in goosebumps and shivering. I’d be so confused, and I’d wonder, for a second, if I’d fallen asleep outside in the rain again, like I did when I was a kid. …Do you remember that? After my dog died, my parents bought another one the very next day, replacing her like she was nothing. I was so mad, I ran away to the park and passed out under the jungle gym, crying myself to sleep. My dad didn’t even notice that I was gone, but you – you called me every night. Just to talk. And it was you that figured out that something was wrong. That I needed your help. You know, I probably would have died that day, if you hadn’t gone looking for me.”

Closing his cold, golden eyes, Isa took a deep breath that shook his bony shoulders. A slow, silent shudder, barely perceptible. 

“A decision that I regret to this very day.” The comment hit him like a sewing needle, sliding just beneath his fingernail. It was so subtle yet so intimate a wound that it made him wonder whether Isa’s hatred wasn’t sincere, after all. “Such overflowing sentimentality over a dog… and yet you replace me without a moment’s hesitation. Pray tell, Lea: am I lower on your totem pole than even a mongrel? You can hardly accuse your father of insensitivity, when you have grown into his spitting image.”

“What did you say? I’m not –” Catching himself before their conversation devolved into yet another argument, Axel bit his lip and forced himself into an abrupt, jarring silence, mere millimeters away from signing his own death warrant. They’d slid down that spiral so many times that Axel knew, by now, that there was no clawing their way back up once they slipped. Arguing over missions and age-old injustices, going nowhere. Neither side ever gave in, the both of them, refusing to focus on the present in favor digging up old grudges that dated back decades. Hitting below the belt and prodding at each other’s weaknesses until they really _did_ hate each other. “No. No, you’re right,” Axel admitted, shaking his dead in defeat. “I should have known better. When I got so upset over a dog, you’d think I would’ve been more hesitant to replace my own best friend. But the thing is, Isa… being stuck in that castle and never making progress was a nightmare. I hated being a Nobody. I felt like I’d been cheated: of my youth and my life. I couldn’t stand the thought of never changing. Of just sitting there, treading water. We weren’t getting any closer to finding her, and you were so –”

“…I was _what_?”

He was going to say _obsessed_ , until Axel remembered that if he wouldn’t win Isa over by blaming him.

“You were within your rights to feel the way you did,” Axel answered, instead. “You were justified in feeling angry and betrayed, when I made you do all the work. It was just easier for me that way. I wanted instant gratification. I wanted to feel like I was alive. …I wanted to have fun, and Roxas offered that for me. I’m not trying to make excuses,” he added on, before Isa could protest. He recognized, from the furrow of his brow, that he already had venom and vitriol, dripping from his tongue. One careless step, and Isa would bite down like a death adder. “I’m just trying to fill in the blanks and give you an explanation, for once.”

“Instead of running away like a coward?” he spat.

“Yeah. It’s about time I did some growing up. Don’t you think so?”

Clearly, that hadn’t been the answer that Isa had expected. Desperate to hide the cracks in his ivory mask, Isa crossed his arms and glanced off at a point over Axel’s shoulder, mimicking the confidence of eye contact. 

“Well then, let’s see how far you’ve come,” Isa began, with hard, traces of pain bleeding into his voice despite his discipline. “Do you remember, Lea, how many times I ever said that I loved you over the years?”

He knew where Isa was going with that line of questioning, he knew that it was a trap, and yet Axel didn’t have the heart to resist as Isa sunk his blade into his chest. 

“…That’s the one thing I could never memorize,” he answered, stepping into the pitfall. “You said it so often, I lost count.”

“Do you remember how many times you ever said the same?” Isa hesitated, and Axel held his breath, deaf and dumb. “Not once.”

Isa’s voice barely rose above a whisper, and yet, in the quiet stillness of the Graveyard, it fell with all the weight of a guillotine. 

“I… didn’t think that I had to. I just figured that you always knew it.”

“No, I didn’t, when so many actions pointed to the contrary. You left me, and when I wanted to wash my hands of you, you were the one who insisted that we simply _must_ remain friends afterwards. But if so, then where were you when my mother died?”

Only when the world went still did Axel realize that Isa’s question wasn’t rhetorical. Without his conscious knowledge, his feet had shifted towards the open gap in the wall. After how far he’d come and all of the obstacles he’d climbed, Axel’s very first instinct, when faced with the monster of Isa’s grief, was to run away with his tail between his legs.

But he was more than an animal. More than a dog.

Facing his fears as best as he could, not with his head held high, but trembling, terrified, Axel swallowed around his dry, thick tongue. 

“I was… hiding. I joined a few extra clubs and made new friends – and I tried not to think about you,” he answered. “I did it because things were awkward after we broke up. I thought I could handle the pressure, but with your mother’s death on top of that, I knew that it was going to take a long, _long_ time for you to be okay again. I knew that you needed help: someone to support you as you planned the funeral and maybe to remind you of the good old days when you’d need something to hang onto. But I didn’t want to take on the responsibility of being your lifeline. I was afraid of commitment, and sacrifice… but more than anything, I was afraid of _you_. Because you grew up a lot faster than I did, and I knew that I couldn’t live up to your expectations. I was never in it for the long haul, but we had so much fun together as kids, that I didn’t want to just throw that away. It was selfish of me. I didn’t want to be there for you, but I also didn’t want to let you go when maybe you would’ve been better off if I did.” Letting out a trembling sigh, Axel ran his hand through his hair as the weight of his words truly sunk in. He sounded terrible. Like a monster. “…Fuck, what else is there to say?”

“What else, indeed?” 

He watched in heavy silence as the tension bled away from Isa’s body. Quiet resignation took its place, seeping into melting tendons, unraveling twisted knots of muscle to pull the fibers from his bones. Isa flexed his fingers. Crawling out from the depths of the void, his claymore answered his call, bursting to life within his grip. Polished titanium, inlaid with moonstone and meticulously sharpened, glinted dangerously in the sunlight. 

Axel pictured blood dripping off those wicked spines and wondered if Isa wouldn’t hesitate to add his own to the collection. 

“Isa –”

“Saïx,” he corrected. “The name that Xemnas bestowed upon me… is Saïx. And before I am my own man, I am his.”

“You don’t have to be,” Axel insisted, refusing to summon his keyblade. He wasn’t about to respond to Isa’s silent threat of violence with his own, shameless display. To inspire him, to drag him back into the light, he had to be better. “You can change.”

“Can I? You were the one who reminded me of what I’d said, when I first forged this claymore. The ideal weapon, Lea, is not only sharp and hard but –”

“Flexible.” 

“I was always rather lacking in that final quality. Wouldn’t you agree?”

He couldn’t stand the hopelessness in his voice. It disgusted him. Despite himself, Axel’s anger broiled over, bubbling past his barriers.

“Are you listening to yourself right now?” he asked, his voice, cracking under the pressure of Isa’s solemn resignation. “Since when did you ever let yourself become so pathetic? You’re more than just a weapon; don’t let yourself be used like one. The Isa, hell the _Saïx_ , that I know would never let a cold, sorry bastard like Xemnas walk all over him, especially considering what’s at stake.”

Refusing to rely on his words any longer, Saïx spun his claymore into a reverse grip. He took an aggressive stance, ready to kill, and still, Axel refused to summon his weapon. 

“Do you actually understand what he’s trying to do?” Axel continued. “This Keyblade War – it’s bigger than any of us ever imagined. I don’t know how much Xemnas told you, or what he’s lied about, but the truth is that Kingdom Hearts holds the power to remake the universe according to its wielder’s ideals. If we don’t stop him, Xehanort is going to destroy everything. Twilight Town, The World That Never Was, even Radiant Garden. Everything in our neighborhood is going to disappear. The library you always loved, all the books, and the librarian who always gave you cookies. What about her? What about your dad and your house? …What about your mother’s grave? Do you understand, Isa? People won’t just die; they’ll be erased. Anyone who is, was, or ever could be. It’ll be like their memories and their potential never existed in the first place. We can’t let that happen.”

“ _You_ are the one who doesn’t understand,” Saïx replied in cold monotone, as though he were talking about something as dull and uneventful as the weather instead of mass murder. “These worlds and all of the people residing on them are simply… inconsequential. In this universe’s grand scheme, they are nothing more than nameless faces, destined to be forgotten and erased from the chronicles of history whether Xemnas brings all the worlds to an abrupt end or not. Whether those people die now, in ten years, or in one hundred centuries, if I may be earnest… it doesn’t matter to me in the slightest. I will sleep within Xehanort’s shadow just as soundly, either way. Oh, Lea… you should know by now that I have never cared for anything but me and mine. If all the worlds and all its trillions of people must fall to the void to satisfy Xemnas’s ambitions, then so be it.”

“…What is wrong with you? How can you say things like that? You’re –”

“Why so disconcerted?” he asked. That question, in its flippant tone, pierced through his armor more effectively than any bullet ever could. “It isn’t within my nature to place the needs of the masses before my own. It never was. Don’t you understand? I was cursed with intolerable apathy. That is precisely why everyone has always avoided me. You were the only one who was too blind and too insufferably _stupid_ to realize that.”

“That’s not true. A person as heartless and selfish as you’re talking about would’ve never picked up a stray dog in the middle of a blizzard and carried it three miles to the animal shelter. You wouldn’t have tutored me past midnight every time I came to you, crying about exams. You’re not as bad as you think you are. You never were. Don’t let Xemnas convince you otherwise. I know that you’re not doing this because you don’t care or because you want to kill people. Right? …You’re doing this _because_ you care. You’re doing this for him, aren’t you?”

“…I love him.”

Innocent and pure, the fragile emotion in that simple declaration stunned him like a flashbang. That was the root of it all. In the end, Saïx would see the worlds engulfed in flame for no other reason than the fact that he loved the man who held the matches. Condemning his own soul to hell just to follow him into the inferno.

“I know. And I’m sorry that we have to kill him.”

“You know that I can’t let you do that. If you want to reach Xemnas at the end of this forsaken Graveyard, then you will have to cut me down and step over my corpse in the process.”

“Isa, I don’t want to fight. Just put down your weapon, and –”

Faster than moonlight, Isa closed the distance between them. His claymore flickered in the light, spines protruded, hard and unyielding. Axel didn’t have the time to react. Unarmed, all he could do was stare into his own reflection, wide-eyed, in the metal – and at Isa’s golden eyes, blown wide and trembling. 

He’d thought himself a dead man, but mere moments before Isa’s blade made contact with his skull, he was shoved aside, stumbling and collapsing in the dirt. Still reeling, when he raised his head, he saw Kairi, kneeling on the ground, wounded and gasping for breath. Though she’d deflected Saïx’s claymore, it was clear, from the angle of her arm, that he’d pulled out her shoulder. Though Axel couldn’t see the details of her wounds, the blood on Saïx’s face cut a sharp contrast against his pale skin. His tongue flicked out, staining crimson as he wiped Kairi’s blood from his lips. With neither pomp nor circumstance, he lifted his claymore to deal the killing blow – to shatter her spine and rupture her organs, erasing everything that she was and all that she could ever be.

And in Saïx’s eyes, he saw Xemnas. He saw Xemnas… and Isa. 

Isa standing in full bloom, the intoxicating eagerness in every joint and sinew, bringing him to life beyond the reach of apathy. Fingers twitching with the anticipation of a deathblow, he bared his teeth and smiled. 

…He’d seen it all before.

It was the same excited energy, bursting at the seams, that Isa had given off all those years ago, when he’d watched in curious, morbid silence, as his former, high school bully screamed bloody murder, throwing up on the table, retching and clawing at his throat after realizing that he’d eaten half a centipede. 

Perhaps Saïx was right, after all. He was weaker, then, and just a little timid, but he’d always had the potential to become the man that he was. The type of man who struck down even children because they got in his way. The type of man who wouldn’t hesitate to slam a two-handed sword down upon a teenaged girl again and again, reducing her body to a formless mass of torn muscle and broken bone, before flicking off her blood and moving on to his next target.

Axel knew that it was partially his fault. 

Perhaps Isa’s good traits, his gentleness and his quiet curiosity, wouldn’t have withered away if only he’d been there to nurture them. It was his fault and his responsibility to fix. Though it tore his beating heart from his chest, Axel gripped his hand around his keyblade until his knuckled ached, and tears in his eyes, he rushed to Kairi’s defense, prepared to kill his Isa or be killed by him.

_______________________________________________

Walking in that room, he saw him quiet and still, engulfed in a tangle of tubes and wires. An IV drip kept the seizures at bay while his body yearned for alcohol and opium. Before Isa had regained consciousness, Ienzo had struggled just to keep his blood pressure up, pushing dopamine and norepinephrine to dangerous doses.

Looking down at him, so sickly and weak, Axel could barely recall Saïx’s image: covered in blood, howling with every mad swing of his claymore. Snuffing out their light like a black eclipse, blooming cold, blue fire, frostbite and famine. 

Saïx was extinction and death – but _Isa_ needed a nasal cannula just to keep himself from suffocating. Starving for oxygen, he took deep, shuddering breaths that wracked his broken ribs. Beneath that thin, hospital gown, Isa’s body was riddled with scars. Thick, pale ravines and deep, dark bruises, hiding deeper, permanent damage. 

Every time he’d clawed out of his coffin, Isa left just a little bit more of himself in the dirt. A memory, here and there. Some peace of mind or the coating of his nerves.

A cold sweat dripped down Axel’s back, as he wondered just how much more torture Isa could possibly take.

With long, messy bangs, brushing against his forehead, Isa looked ten years younger. Weak and vulnerable, he glanced up at him with his eyes, half-lidded.

“Do you know why Ienzo barred my window?” he asked, in a voice, soft and weak. A single pin, clattering against the floor and echoing throughout the mansion like a sonic boom. 

“No, I don’t.”

“Though I can barely feel my limbs… he worries that, somehow… through sheer determination and force of will, I may find the strength to drag my body from my sickbed and throw myself out the window. To shatter my bones against the concrete.”

Of all the things that Isa could have said, it had to be something like that. A simple hello would have been too pleasant. An apology, too humiliating. So instead, disarmed and dying, Isa struck him in the only way he could. 

“It’s good to see you, too, Isa,” Axel replied, pulling his lips into a tight, hollow smile. “…Look, I know that you feel beyond terrible, but it won’t last forever. Ienzo said that you’ll be feeling a lot better after you get used to your human body, again.”

“This?” Isa asked with a facetious, mocking smile, as he weakly lifted his trembling arm, clattering his tubes against his IV stand. “Do you think that I look like a dying man, now? Oh, Lea… This is nothing compared to what is yet to come. …This is _nothing_.” 

“I know it’s hard to believe, but that’s not true. You really are getting better. You haven’t have a seizure in weeks, now. You’re awake, you’re talking, you’re eating. Soon, you’ll be walking again, and we can get that catheter out of you. Everything is going to be okay.” 

“No, it won’t,” Isa bit back, biting back a chocked, miserable laugh. “Have you forgotten how it felt? Dying again, and again… Oh, you and I should know, better than anyone, that a fatal wound is painless. In the face of its own mortality, the human body would rather numb itself with shock than overwhelm the mind with pointless stimulus, when no possible action could save it. No, the pain comes afterwards, in a savage flood that swallows the earth and snuffs out the very stars. …You, Roxas, and Xion – together, you have already dealt the killing blow. My body is falling apart… but this is nothing. I am numb. I still have yet to be struck by the pain.”

“Isa… I know that it feels like your world is ending and that it’ll never get any better, but I promise you that it will. I promise. You’re still alive. You made it, and so did I. You’ll need physical therapy, but I’ll be there to help you every step of the way. Okay? You said it yourself: I’d never really leave you behind. Your life isn’t over yet.”

Summoning his courage, Axel reached for Isa’s pale, bony hand, careful to avoid jostling the needle in his vein. Cradling it in his palm, Axel realized that his touch was freezing, and yet, he refused to pull away, hoping only that his own warmth could spread its roots to Isa’s frigid marrow. 

“…What’s this? Were you actually listening to me?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he chuckled, knowing better than to ask Isa to smile – and yet hoping all the same that his own forced, carefree grin would inspire just a little spark of joy in him. “Of course I was.” 

“How unlike you. The Lea that I know doesn’t listen quite as often as he merely… waits for his own opportunity to speak. It’s been a glaring flaw of yours ever since we were children.”

“Yeah, I know. But spending time with Kairi, and then with Xion and Roxas now that we’re all back together, has really given me a crash course on listening skills.” 

Though certainly not in choosing his words carefully. Axel regretted mentioning Xion and Roxas as soon as their names left his lips. 

A single muscle twitched in Isa’s jaw, his expression, falling just short of a sardonic smile, calm beneath a veil of forced dignity. It was an expression that Isa never made as a child. He’d only learned that form of severe cynicism after he’d started wearing the mask that Xemnas forged for him. Isa dug his fingers against the bar of his hospital bed until it shook. Axel’s pupils trained on Isa’s fingernails, waiting in frigid horror for the inevitable moment that they snapped and splintered.

“Speaking of your… _friends_ ,” Isa began, schooling his voice into calm neutrality, just barely slipping into signs of bitterness. “Where are they now? What wonderful lives have you led in my absence?”

“Whatever ‘wonderful’ lives we’re living will be even better when you’re with us,” Axel answered, focusing on a bright future instead of playing into Isa’s hand and giving him the chance to double down on his negativity. “I was hoping that after you’re all healed up, you can pack up your stuff and move to Twilight Town with me.” 

“And Roxas. …And Xion,” Isa scoffed, running his hand over his bloodshot eyes, as he filled in the blanks with absolutely no hope and no excitement at all, much to Axel’s crushing disappointment.

“Yeah. With all of us,” he answered with confidence. Even knowing that Isa would be upset, in truth, his old friend didn’t have any other feasible options. The companionship would do him some good; Axel liked to consider it tough love. “Look, I know you’re not happy about that, but the fact is that Roxas and Xion are only sixteen, and they don’t have anywhere else to go. They don’t have parents or even a real home world to return to. They’re my friends, so I had to take them in. Turning them away was never an option, and yeah, it’s hard sometimes, but it’s really not that bad. We all live together, in Twilight Town; they go to school, and I do the best I can to put food on the table.” 

“Lea –”

“Let me finish,” he insisted. “Even though life is already kind of tough, when I asked them if you could move in with us, they were willing to give you a chance. I won’t lie: it took some convincing, and even now, they’re not particularly excited about it. Xion is still afraid of you, and Roxas was actually pissed that I even brought it up, considering how much you hurt them. But they know how much you mean to me, and they know I won’t just leave you here to rot. Don’t you get it, Isa? Even after all of the horrible things you did, they want to give you a chance to atone and make things right. They’re good kids. They _want_ this to work. I’m sure Xion and Roxas won’t hold a grudge if you apologize and really try your best.”

He hadn’t been expecting tears of joy, certainly, but… he hadn’t expected the unbridled hatred. Isa’s expression turned stone cold. Ripping his hand out of Axel’s grasp, he clawed at his own skin, as though he were trying to wipe away the germs. 

Growing restless, Isa toyed with the IV in the back of his hand. 

“…Where is Xemnas?” he asked suddenly, and Axel could sense his growing dissatisfaction. 

“Isa, please. It’s over. Just try to move on, and –”

“ _Where is Xemnas_?” he repeated, growling and raising his voice, even when it sent him into a coughing fit. Blood trickled down his fingers, but when Axel reached for him, Isa batted his hand away, as though he couldn’t bear to be touched. “I… I’ve had enough of this conversation, Lea. I just want to see him. Where is he? Has he not resurrected? If you defeated all of us, if Xemnas and Ansem have both been vanquished, then where is Xehanort’s body?”

“Isa –”

“Has something happened to him?” Speaking hypotheticals, and his voice had already shot up an octave. It was the most emotion that he’d heard from Isa in over a decade… and it was wasted on Xemnas. “I want to see Xemnas. I _need_ to –”

“He’s gone, okay?” Perhaps he could have been more sympathetic, but, overcome by jealousy, it took all of his strength, already, to stop himself from saying _good riddance_. “I don’t really understand it, myself, but the way Riku explained it to me was that Xemnas was made by a person like you: a victim who was possessed by Xehanort’s consciousness. It was that person that made Xemnas. He was never really Xehanort’s Nobody.”

“Then… just who is this man? Where should I begin my search for him?”

“Look, there’s no point in looking for him. Okay? Xemnas isn’t like you and me; he’s like Roxas. After he died, his consciousness got reabsorbed into the man who made him. That’s as good as death. He’s not coming back.” 

“Not necessarily,” Isa argued, grasping at straws, trying to connect the pieces of a puzzle that they couldn’t hope to solve. “You returned Roxas from the void, itself. You were successful. If we locate Xemnas’s progenitor and take him back to Ienzo’s laboratory, then what is stopping us from transferring Xemnas’s consciousness into a replica?”

“Well… everybody around us, for starters.” He didn’t know how else to say it. Perhaps there was no ideal way to soften the impact – or perhaps when it came to Xemnas, Axel just didn’t care. “I’m sorry that I have to say it like this, but you’re the only person who cares about Xemnas, at all. Nobody misses him. He’s just… He’s not a good person, Isa. He’s a tyrant who ended up hurting a lot of people. Nobody is ever going to agree to bring him back for you.” 

“So, you will grant Roxas a new lease on life, but not my Xemnas? And you claim to believe in second chances… You would condemn him to death!” 

“We all would. That’s what we decided together. Xemnas did horrible things. He’s evil. He can’t be trusted to walk around as a free man. Never again.”

“…Horrible things?” Isa chuckled, though from the quiver in his voice, the barely there, ghost of a whisper, it was clear that he was struggling to hold on to what little remained of his dignity. “This is the man who carried me to my bedroom when I lacked the strength to walk. This is the man who held me and kept me company through the lonely nights. Who fulfilled _your_ broken promises. And you have the gall to call _him_ repugnant? Dare I ask… according to whom? To you? To the victors of this battle? When the concepts of good and evil are relative, it is due only to your triumph over us that you possess the power to impose your morality upon me at all.”

Isa was fraying at the seams, speaking faster and louder with every subsequent word. Sucking in deep, desperate breaths, his eyes welled with tears despite his firm resistance. With only a single, pained whimper, in typical Isa fashion, he held himself back, clenching his teeth so hard his jaw popped. Digging his fingers into his blankets, he refused to move a single muscle, holding himself perfectly still, teetering at the edge of oblivion, until he finally regained his composure. 

It was almost impressive. Struggling through the storm, standing upright through an earthquake, Isa never let his tears fall. 

“Lea,” he gasped, on the verge of yet another flood of tears. His entire body shuddered. “…I want you to listen to me closely.”

“Okay. But before that, I… I just want to say I’m sorry. Not for the fact that Xemnas is gone, but for the fact that you miss him. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Stop. Just… _stop_. Lea, if you ever loved me, even for a moment, if I ever meant anything to you in the slightest, then I want you to _shut up_ and get out of my sight.”

“Isa –”

“ _Get out_!”

The lightbulbs should have shattered under the weight of Isa’s grief. Axel felt the glass raining down, regardless, falling in rivulets. Terrified, he squeezed his eyes shut and rushed out the door before he could see for himself just whether Isa’s tears would fall. Whether his foundation could sustain the raging winds and crashing waves of a second, violent storm. 

He slammed the door and ran away. Eyes straight ahead, he never looked back as he stormed down the hallway and away from the hurricane. 

He made it halfway back to the waiting room before he realized he was a dead man walking. The numbness wore away, and the pain of Isa’s deathblow pierced him like a bullet in the back. It took his breath away, shooting up his nerves like lightning. Leaning against the wall for support, he gasped for air in shallow, restless shudders. From a distance, even through his tunnel vision, he could see Xion and Roxas playing cards on the waiting room table. To his greatest shame, despite his it all, he felt an irresistible urge to join them. To pack up his things and throw his history away, burning his burdens. 

Only one year ago, he wouldn’t have been able to resist the siren’s call. 

But it was maturity, kicking down his door with a vengeance. The longer he looked upon his friends smiling and laughing, without a care in the world, the more Axel felt the touch of the void festering in his own heart, spreading blackness and rot through his veins. 

It struck him, then, that he’d purchased his happiness at the cost of Isa’s. His long-awaited, heartfelt reunion was made possible only through robbing Isa of the man he loved. The man who, despite his lies and betrayals, had served as his lifeline when Axel lacked the courage to stand beside him.

Roxas called his name. 

Tempted to look up, at the very last moment, Axel refused. He turned on his heel, knowing that this time, when Isa’s world fell apart, with Xemnas, dead, there was no one left but him to pick up the pieces. 

Rushing down the hallway to Isa’s rescue, Axel had been determined to set things right, up until the very moment when he heard the wretched, terrible sobs bleeding out from behind Isa’s doorway. Deep, low, and gut-wrenching, they slit his stomach like a rusted knife, and Axel knew that he deserved no better. Those sobs echoed through the gallows. Spreading through the walls. Creeping beneath the floorboards like a curse. In their almost thirty years together, he’d watched Isa shrug off blistering, peeling burns and broken bones without so much as a single, audible huff. But this time, it was more than just sadness.

It was a fatal wound.

Those wretched sounds could only come from a dying man, rattling in his death throes – almost as if a part of Isa had fractured, withering up right alongside Xemnas’s memory. 

Inching closer on trembling legs, Axel stood before the door, paralyzed and muted by the horror, and couldn’t stop himself from listening. Like watching a car wreck, even as bile shot up from his gullet, he couldn’t turn away from the carnage. He stood there for five agonizing minutes, and then for ten. Grief eclipsed any sense of shame, and even after all that time, Isa just couldn’t stop. Frozen, Axel stared at the little wooden door and didn’t dare to reach for the handle. 

All those years, and he hadn’t learned a thing. 

His very first instinct, even then, was still to turn and run away. And yet, he knew that he had to put an end to the cycle. Refusing to make the same mistakes again and again, Axel forced himself to take a deep breath and stand up tall in the face of oblivion. 

With his heart, pounding, he knocked on the door and let himself in, ready for the thunder. 

__________________________________

Sunlight reflected in her eyes, glimmering against her tears of pure, unrepentant happiness. Joy overwhelmed any sense of embarrassment, and as Xion, always smiling, now, looked off into Twilight Town’s horizon, she found that she didn’t mind if anyone saw her crying. She was with her dearest friends, after all, and they wouldn’t be so callous as to tease her, when they understood just all of the pain she’d endured. For someone like her, whose very right to exist had always teetered on a tightrope, every single day was a new and wondrous cause for celebration. Sitting atop that clock tower and sharing sea salt ice cream with her beloved friends was nothing short of a dream come true.

At her humble request, Roxas gave her arm a friendly, little pinch, just to prove that she was awake.

After all of the obstacles they’d faced, she never thought she’d see the day when he’d ever come back to her. Flooded with relief every time she saw him, she looked up at his face, and her eyes teared up with a vengeance. Axel was quick to come to her rescue, pulling her into a crushing bear hug that had her giggling against his shoulder. As he stroked her hair and repeated, for what must have been the fiftieth time, that everything was going to be okay, she knew that he spoke the truth. Beaming down at her with his bright, cheerful smile, the warmth of his love resonated within her, reminding her of the miraculous fact that she was truly, wonderfully alive.

She was her own person. 

The conductor of her very own orchestra.

Clear, summer air filled her lungs with every deep breath, rendering her weightless. She was so grateful: for the gift of life, for all the time she’d been given, and especially for all of her treasured friends. For Pence, such a good listener. Hayner, the eternally cheerful and Olette, wise beyond her years. For Axel and her dearest Roxas.

…And of course, for Isa, too.

That was the magic of being human – even people who disagreed with each other in the past could find common ground when they really, truly tried to bridge the gap between them. And Isa was always the very model of dedication. When he wanted something accomplished, it got done, one way or another. She was lucky, perhaps, that this time, his ultimate goal was to live peacefully together with her. 

She’d wept over his apology letter so many times that her tears smudged the ink of his beautiful calligraphy. Meticulously chosen words and perfect grammar were woven together into a gift so touching and heartfelt that it made butterflies flitter about in her stomach just from thinking about it. That letter meant the world to her – and to Roxas, too, who’d received one of his very own.

And it wasn’t just the letter that had proven how much he’d changed. 

Cursed with exceptional competency, Isa took on the mantle as their family’s main breadwinner _and_ as the homemaker. Considering the fact that Axel made minimum wage delivering pizzas, Isa picked up his slack, working long hours, typing up financial reports and giving presentations for some importing company, just to provide for their makeshift family. On top of that, he suffered the miserable sentence of eternal kitchen duty for being the only one in their group whose meals ended up being consistently edible. 

It was hard for him, but Xion knew that it had been even harder in the beginning of their life together, when Roxas had still been outwardly ungrateful for his efforts. Always giving him the stink eye and calling him Seven. Even after their family dynamic had improved, she still always worried that Isa worked himself too hard. 

He pulled even longer hours in the Organization, but she still couldn’t help but worry. Whether it was due to integrity or a simple lack of confidence, Xion felt, somewhat, as though they were taking advantage of Isa. After all, his place in their home wasn’t completely unconditional. As the black sheep of their family of four, he was always walking on thin ice. One misstep, and he’d be turned out on the streets. 

…Or perhaps it would be the other way around, considering the fact that the house was under Isa’s name. 

Still, Xion felt guilty, all the same, when he would trudge into the house some evenings and look so dead tired, she could have sworn he’d collapse and shatter right there, in the doorway. Sometimes, he’d even fall asleep at the dinner table, and she’d have to give his knee a surreptitious nudge or compliment him, extra loudly, on how much she loved his cooking, just to bring him back to the waking world.

At the very least, Isa wasn’t completely alone. Everyone tried to help out, when they could. Roxas and Axel would do all of the cleaning and repair work, while she would help with meal prep and grocery shopping. It would have been nice if she didn’t always have to be the one to trudge to the store in the snow and the rain, but Axel wasn’t trusted with the shopping list anymore, when he’d always come back with boatloads of chips and candy, all paid for on Isa’s credit. Isa used to lecture him, saying that they didn’t have the money for pointless luxuries like that, until Roxas, back when he was still bitter, had quipped back that if they couldn't afford a simple bag of pretzels, then Isa didn’t have any right to spend so much money on liquor.

That was his breaking point. Isa had gotten so mad that there was still a dent in the wall from where he’d thrown his whiskey glass. 

Even since then, even after profuse apologies, Roxas was banned from shopping, too.

Xion didn’t truly mind being saddled with domestic duties, however. Shopping and cooking with Isa was actually somewhat fun. They never spoke about anything more personal than work or school, but she’d gotten to know him, regardless, at least a little bit. 

From the corner of her eye, she always saw it when he started cooking: the pocket sized, leather bound journal which inspired his recipes. Small and innocuous, it wouldn’t have caught her eye at all, if not for those four little words, etched onto the cover in Xemnas’s bold handwriting, harshly slanted, showcasing gigantic capital letters, as if to emphasize their importance.

_To My Dearly Beloved_

Isa would run his thumb over the cover and let his gaze wander a thousand miles away. He never even noticed her peeking into his notebook. Xemnas’s handwriting was so needlessly fancy that it almost looked like another language, entirely. It would have taken her an hour just to decipher a single page, and yet Isa seemed to know those recipes by heart. Either he’d prepared them countless times in the past, or he’d become so familiar with Xemnas’s habits over the years that interpreting his handwriting was simply second nature. She suspected that it was the reason why Isa never complained about getting stuck with cooking duty. Following those recipes, eating the same, familiar foods, must have made Isa feel close to him. 

Eager to forge an emotional connection, Xion had asked him, once or twice, if he wanted to talk about his loss – but the most she’d ever gotten out of him, after he’d downed three drinks after a bad day at work, was a confirmation that he missed Xemnas dearly. Always so tight-lipped when it came to the subject of their former Superior, nobody even knew what it was that Isa had even liked about him in the first place. He would have rather sewn his mouth shut than utter a single word about that man. 

Not that Xion didn’t understand. 

Just as the church preached that they weren’t to speak carelessly about the gods, Xion suspected that Isa wanted to pay his dearly departed Xemnas the same respect. Treating him as someone sacred, beautiful, and _his_.

Isa stayed up past midnight and awoke before the sun even rose. In the sanctity of the morning hours, when he thought himself alone, he would sit out on the steps of their front porch no matter the season, and he would sip at his whiskey and stare off down the driveway. She used to think that he was only trying to savor a peaceful minute alone, away from the rest of them, until it crossed her mind, one day, that he was probably thinking about Xemnas. She didn’t care to confirm her theory, when the price of her curiosity was defiling the sanctity of Isa’s solitude. 

“Do you want the last ice cream?” she asked, after Isa finished off the rest of his and dropped the stick over the edge of the clock tower, leaning forward to listen to it clatter against the stone. 

“I think I should have it,” Roxas teased with a bright, beaming smile. “You don’t actually like ice cream, do you, Isa?” 

Laughing, Roxas gave his side a playful nudge, soft as a feather. Now that they were effectively friends, he was always so gentle with Isa, even more so than he was with her. Under any other circumstance, perhaps Xion would have been jealous – but she knew that Isa deserved the special treatment, when the once indominable Saïx was now the weakest of them all. Ienzo’s medicine had helped him make drastic improvements, but Isa was still so sickly, sometimes. 

Taking the scenic route up to the clocktower and running up endless flights of stairs was just too much for him to handle. He and Axel always took the elevator up seperately, now.

She missed running up the stairs with Axel, and sometimes, perhaps as testament that she still had plenty of room to grow, Xion couldn’t help but get a little irritated at Isa for keeping Axel away from the rest of them, even when she knew that it wasn’t his fault. She always felt terrible about it, afterwards, when she’d see him on his worst days, when the joint pain was so intense that he still needed his cane, or even worse, his wheelchair. 

Though she knew that Isa didn’t mind. Sometimes, when he would think that no one was looking, he’d twirl that cane just like his old claymore, and he would look… content. Smiling down at the polished moonstone as though it were a dear, old friend – perhaps more dear to him than his true friends were.

Isa never looked at her and Roxas with such fondness: with that gentle smile, so soft and warm, it had melted even Xemnas’s heart. It was the same way he looked at his little bar of sea salt ice cream. Endlessly fond. Daring to be improper, Isa softened his posture, slumping his shoulders and dangling his feet off the edge of the clocktower.

“I haven’t had a craving for sweets in a long time,” he answered, taking the ice cream from Xion’s hand, regardless. She’d removed it from the wrapper on his behalf, knowing that he’d struggle with the fine muscle movement. “But sea salt ice cream brings back fond memories.”

“Better memories than this? How’s that even possible?” Roxas leaned in close, just dying to hear the answer, as though he couldn’t believe that Isa treasured other experiences more than a peaceful afternoon shared with friends. 

But Xion knew better. 

“He’s old, that’s how,” Hayner answered with a laugh. “All old people have to think that everything was better back when they were kids. It’s the law.”

Refusing to validate that comment with any response, Isa only looked down at his cream bar with that strange, unreadable expression – the same one that he wore, when he sat outside, alone, in the mornings.

“The last time that I had sea salt ice cream was…”

“We must’ve been, what, ten years old?” Axel added in, slipping his arm around Isa’s waist with a type of fond affection that Xion didn’t recognize: a touch that Axel only ever reserved for Isa and one that Xion wanted to experience for herself, one day, with her most precious someone. …Perhaps it was what Isa called intimacy. “I think that was when the factory went out of business, and all us kids in Radiant Garden had to give up sea salt ice cream and settle for boring old vanilla.”

“Yes, of course. That’s right,” Isa replied. A single muscle in his jaw twitched, as he seemed to hold back his constrained, overflowing longing for… something. She couldn’t put her finger on it. “We were ten years old. Still in primary school.”

“Now, those were the good old days!” Axel agreed with uproarious laughter, slapping a hand down onto his knee. “When me and Isa were kids, ice cream was a fourth of the price it is now, and it was twice as good. You kids have never tasted the real deal. This stuff is watered down. You can laugh at me and Isa for being old and crusty all your want – the point is, you missed out! Childhood was really something special back in the day. Wasn’t it, Isa?”

“It was. Modern children aren’t blessed with the same sense of innocence. Everything is computerized and automated, now – and adults are so hypervigilant. Children now won’t ever know what it was like, sneaking into the forest, inspired by an urban legend. Following the rail tracks in search of a hidden mansion that appears only on the night of a full moon. …No wonder the childhood mortality rate was so high, when we were young. We could have gotten ourselves killed.”

“No way. I never would have let anything happen to you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You couldn’t even take care of yourself,” Isa chided, chuckling through a subtle smile. “I was the one who had to stop you from stepping in bear traps and poisoning yourself with wild berries.”

“Come on! Why do you always have to make me sound like a loser?” 

“I don’t. You accomplish that well enough without my intervention.” 

As though her laughter were contagious, once Xion started, everyone else joined in. …Isa was always so clever. 

“Oh, like you were always so cool. Do you remember the time when we were waiting for the ice cream truck at the corner of the street, and the driver ignored us and drove right on by? You were so upset, you dropped all your money on the street and started bawling.”

“...I was trying to forget that moment,” Isa replied through clenched teeth and a joyless smile.

“Well, I’ve got it memorized. That day is burned into my brain, and I’ll keep bringing it up on a regular basis for the rest of your life. Even when we’re eighty and sitting in our rocking chairs, drinking room temperature prune juice, I’ll still be running that story on repeat.” 

“You could always develop dementia.”

“Then I hope you’ll be the one to tell me that story over and over again.” With a smile as warm as the sun, Axel took Isa’s hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I don’t ever want to forget. Not the way you looked, when you were stomping your feet and screaming bloody murder – or how pissed off I was, not because we didn’t get any ice cream, but because that driver made you cry.” 

“…You should stop saying things like that.”

“Why?” he asked, leaning in closer. “Am I gonna make you sentimental? Oh, Isa… Remember how I stole an ice cream bar for you at the gas station, after that? You kept on begging me not to take it, but once we left, you ate it, anyway.”

It was one of the rare moments when she actually had the privilege of seeing Isa smile – not the tense, proper little upturn of his lips when he greeted them after coming home from work or when he served them breakfast in the mornings, but… a genuine smile. The kind where he would close his eyes and turn his face, just to hide the evidence that anything could ever truly please him. 

“We lived a good life.”

“Why’re you talking like you’re about to drop dead any minute now?” Axel scolded. “You don’t think you’re _living_ a good life?” 

“I could do without the joint pain.”

“Well, think about it this way: if you didn’t have the pain, then we wouldn’t be able to park in the handicapped spaces, and you wouldn’t be able to suck on those little lollipops that always make you smile.” 

Olette perked up at that, practically bouncing in place. “You know, they opened a candy store in the market that stocks just about every lollipop flavor in the world. Maybe we could all go together, one day! What kind of lollipops do you like, Isa?”

“Fentanyl,” he answered, with a snide little smirk that only grew wider when he noticed her confusion.

“What’s that?”

Pence shrugged. “I… think it’s one of those classic flavors, like licorice. Maybe it’s something he used to have as a kid?”

“I hope not!” Axel remarked with a laugh. “It would’ve probably killed him. Even as an adult, after one of those, Isa’s stuck taking a twelve-hour power nap.”

“It’s the only time when I am able to get any sleep at all, considering how frequently you kick me throughout the night,” Isa chided, returning Axel's kick from beneath their seat on the clock tower.

“Right. Like you’re such a good bed partner," Axel teased, gentle and affectionate. "You’re a blanket hog.” 

They were so busy reminiscing about their childhoods that Isa hadn’t noticed his ice cream melting, until it had already dripped onto his jacket. He flinched, practically throwing his ice cream down the clock tower as Axel reached into his pocket for something to clean it up. 

“Don’t worry, I got it,” Axel reassured him, as he dabbed at Isa’s coat with a little black cloth. “There we go! Good as new.”

Isa was smiling, at first, but when his pupils drifted from Axel’s face to the handkerchief in his hand, Xion didn’t think that she’d ever seen something so horrifying. Love and gratitude, a perfect smile, slowly falling into curiosity, and then confusion… which morphed into disbelief, until it twisted down into a miserable snarl, teeth bared. It was the same expression that she’d seen on Saïx, so many times, when he would tear her reports to shreds, tossing them at her chest and leaving her to scrounge around on the floor just to piece together the fragments.

Xion didn’t notice that she’d started trembling until Roxas placed his hand on her shoulder. She jolted, glancing back at him and clinging to his arm.

“You’ve been searching through my private drawers,” Isa accused, slow and steady, the calm before the storm. He never even posed a question so much as he waited for Axel’s confirmation of the fact. 

“I didn’t really think that we _had_ private drawers. You know, since we’re boyfriends, and we’re supposed to share everything we have.”

“You never have any reason to search through our drawers in the first place, when _I_ am the one who lays out your clothing for you in the mornings. …Like your _mother_.”

“Why are you making such a big deal about this?” Axel retorted, half-laughing, shaking his head in pure confusion. “I spilled ketchup on my shirt, and I was looking for another in my own bedroom, in my own house. Last time I checked, that wasn’t a crime. There’s nothing special about the stuff in that drawer, anyway. It’s just a bunch of random crap you never use. Pink shorts, sunglasses, and flower shirts? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear those. You definitely never wear that ugly seashell necklace. That thing was practically falling apart. I was thinking about tossing it.”

“If you throw away Xemnas’s necklace, I will –” Struggling to maintain his composure, Isa shook his head and forced himself to keep his breathing steady. She’d never seen someone look so agitated, dragging his hand over his eyes, tugging at the skin, as though he were seconds away from clawing it off. The sigh he let out was so impossibly weary that it sucked the life and the energy out of their group. “When we return home, I am going to wash that handkerchief and return it to its proper place. You will never open that drawer again, you will never speak of its contents in or outside of my presence, and we will never repeat this conversation. Do I make myself clear?”

“Is that all Xemnas’s stuff?” Axel asked, completely incredulous. His voice, rising in pitch with his anxious energy. “Have you been keeping his clothes in our room? That’s… Man, that’s _disgusting_!” 

“ _You_ are the one who disgusts me! You don’t have the right to say his name when you were complicit in condemning him to death!”

“Oh for fuck’s –” Axel caught himself, but not after he’d already cursed in front of them. Olette hunched into herself, and Pence’s face had gone white. Perhaps this was what it felt like for ordinary teenagers to listen to their parents fight, slinging mud against everything that the other held dear. 

Axel sucked in a breath behind clenched teeth, looking up at the sky and shaking his head, as though he couldn’t believe that they were arguing about Xemnas _again_. Xion only couldn’t believe that Axel had been naïve enough to think that Isa would only be mourning his death on the anniversary of their defeat. 

Grief just didn’t work like that.

“…I thought we got over this ages ago, Isa.”

“’Get over it?’ Do you honestly expect me to forget all of the experiences that Xemnas and I shared together? Do you expect me to spit upon his memory?”

“Considering the fact that you’re dating _me_ , now? Yeah, actually, I do. I want you to take all of his _crap_ and toss it in the dumpster the second we get home. And if you can’t do that, I’ll throw it out, myself.”

“Lay a single hand on Xemnas’s belongings, and I will grab my cleaver and sever your arm.”

Axel flinched at the threat, looking so betrayed. Finally at his breaking point, but knowing that he didn’t have the physical strength or the emotional leverage to fight, all Isa could do was flee and lick his wounds in the sanctity of his own home. Wincing from the pain, Isa struggled to stand, and Xion reached up, gripping onto his arm to beg him to stay. With a disgusted grimace, as though he’d been touched by a leper, he tugged his arm out of her grip and rubbed at the fabric of his jacket.

“ _Don’t touch me_.”

As he stormed off, leaving them all behind in the dust, even Xion could have sworn she saw Saïx’s ghost in Isa’s unbridled, unrepentant hatred for her.


	11. Chapter 11

Plagued by sickness and chronic lethargy, Isa trickled back into consciousness with the reluctance of a hanged man, dragged to the gallows. Over the course of fifteen long, grueling minutes, he clung desperately to sleep until the merciless waking world tugged at his fingers, prying them apart. In his pain and his misery, he whimpered. One by one, his nerves came back to life, making him painfully aware of the ache in his bones and the feeling of cold, wet drool, plastering his cheek to the pillow. In his past life, the revulsion would have hit him with all the force of an atom bomb, but now, it couldn’t so much as penetrate the fog of his crippling inertia.

Only the horrible, ear-splitting blare of his alarm clock dragged him back into cruel awareness, splintering his bloody nails against the dirt. 

Isa peeled himself off of the living room sofa, knocking pillows and blankets to the floor in the hazy blindness of exhaustion. Despite his efforts, his feet never made it to the floor. Crushed by his own body weight, his thin, trembling arms buckled, and he came crashing down, face first, onto the cushions. 

His alarm clock howled. That dreadful sound pierced through his skull like an airstrike siren, but Isa could have slept through the end of the world, itself. Fentanyl and diazepam made certain of that, caressing his cheek as they severed his tendons and slammed their hammers down against his knees. Closing his eyes once more, Isa fell back asleep for another full ten minutes until his second alarm clock, his contingency plan, burst to life, ringing with such intensity that it tumbled from the table, crashing to the floor and twitching madly in its death throes. 

He wanted to scream just like he did on school days when he was five years old, with his mother, tugging at his crescent moon blankets. Struggling against the encroaching of the school bell, Isa’s weak little whimpers, muffled by sleep, would rush forth and shatter into broken wails, twisted with exhaustion and infinite torment.

Oh, if only he’d known that he had nothing to scream about, then. Trembling, Isa tucked his knees against his chest and curled up on his little sofa, wishing that he could disappear between the cracks. 

Air rushed into his lungs. He felt the force building up, threatening to shatter his ribs and burst out from the confines of his chest, and yet, restrained by maturity, Isa held himself back, and the breath escaped him not as an echoing scream but as nothing more than a feeble, shuddering sigh. 

Eyes, half opened, he stared out at the gaping void between the sofa and his coffee table and then to his second alarm clock, twitching against the carpet. Hour and minute hands tugged at his plain, grey blankets, nagging at him to get dinner prepared. 

There was no use in delaying the inevitable. 

Struggling against his vertigo, Isa forced himself to sit upright. World, spinning, he reached blindly for his cane. His fingers clamped down on open air time and again, until they finally made contact with titanium and polished moonstone. That cane was the most valuable possession in his household – one that brought back memories of soothing shade and absolute stillness. It was all that he could afford, when the rest of his earnings went toward schoolbooks and club fees for children whom he didn’t love.

He still cursed their names.

Xion and Roxas had crippled him, leaving him as a shell of his former glory, but even Isa’s broken body was not wounded quite as heavily as his pride. Clinging to the past, Isa had not been granted a new lease on life as much as he had been cursed to inhabit Saïx’s walking corpse. 

He felt like a dead man; he could feel himself rotting.

Ever since he’d moved in with those children, every subsequent day was worse than the one that came before it. Every pleasant smile, infinitely harder to fake than the last. Every gentle word, more difficult to pronounce without choking on his own teeth. He didn’t know how much more he could take.

His king was dead and his country, dissolved. Conditional to assuming new citizenship in the new and glorious republic, as a former soldier of the enemy state, Isa was condemned to pay war reparations for the rest of his life. War reparations that came in the form of playing caretaker and playmate to children who had robbed him of everything that he had once held dear. There were moments when the humiliation was almost too much to bear. 

Betraying their naivety, however, Xion and Roxas hadn’t once seen past his mask, even during moments when he could barely bring himself to tolerate their presence. It should have been obvious; Isa was a grown man with better uses for his time than playing frisbee and eating ice cream with high school children. They should have known that he did it only because he simply had no choice. He couldn’t lose Lea, as well as Xemnas. 

He couldn’t let it happen. He’d wouldn’t.

That was what Isa’s life had been reduced to: an endless spiral of damage control. Cutting off his own gangrenous limbs to curb the spread of infection, all he could do was wince through the pain. He didn’t have any choice but to endure his torment in silence when Xion wrapped its bony little arms around his body, smiling as it welcomed him home. He didn’t have the freedom to spur Roxas’s requests for playtime with those insufferable Twilight Town brats that just wouldn’t stop talking at him.

Eyes wide in pitiful dread, Isa stared out at the unbridgeable gap between his sofa and coffee table and sincerely considered lying there, motionless, for the full thirty minutes that it would take for both of his alarm clocks to shut off on their own after abandoning hope for him entirely. It wasn’t until he heard distant voices and sudden clattering from the kitchen that he even considered doing otherwise. 

Lea and the children weren’t scheduled to return until midnight. Their depressing, makeshift family of misfits had already reserved tickets to some inane children’s movie that evening, and Isa didn’t suspect that those plans would be cancelled just because he’d stormed off on his own. He wasn’t important enough to merit their concern. He suspected intruders and indulgently wondered if they would leave him in peace if he’d simply gone back to sleep, but in the end, ever diligent, it fell to Isa to get up and investigate. Preparing for the worst, he left his alarm clocks ringing, as he gripped onto his cane and made his way out of the living room. Keeping low, he stuck to the shadows, ready to strike at a moment’s notice. 

When he glanced past the doorway, however, instead of encountering masked criminals, he saw Xion and Roxas, who had returned home early, after all. Scurrying like cockroaches, they rushed about to set the dinner table while Lea dragged a piping hot pan out of the oven. 

“We did it… We actually did it!” Lea exclaimed, showcasing his creation with a proud and beaming smile. “Come here. Take a look. It’s just like in the picture!”

“Would you stop yelling?” Roxas grumbled with a gentle reprimand. “This is supposed to be a surprise, remember? You’ll wake him up before it’s ready.”

“Oh, come on. Do you hear those alarm clocks? If Isa can sleep through that noise, he’ll sleep through anything. Besides, you saw him. He was out cold. He’s not waking up any time soon. Now, come on and help me get this thing plated.” 

With a quick salute on Roxas’s part and a gentle laugh on Xion’s, the children sprung to action, grabbing plates and serving spoons.

“It even smells good,” Roxas remarked with noticeable disbelief, as though he’d been anticipating a train wreck from the very start. 

“It really does,” Xion agreed. Before Roxas could slide a little slab of lasagna onto the plate it was holding, however, Xion tugged the platter away at the very last moment. “Wait. Isa told me that he doesn’t like the edges of brownies or casseroles because those parts always get crusty. We should give him one of the middle pieces.”

Setting the old piece of lasagna back onto the pan, Roxas cut out a second slice, straight from the middle, and placed it onto the plate.

“Drizzle some sauce over it,” Xion instructed. “…Okay, that’s good! I think that looks really nice.”

After turning off the oven and placing some bowls in the dishwasher, Axel hovered over Roxas’s shoulder and get a better look at the dish they’d created. “See? What’d I tell you?” he remarked, glowing with pride. “We didn’t have to go out in the rain and buy pizzas, after all. I knew that we could cook something great if we all worked together.”

“Um, Axel?” Xion giggled, its voice, muffled behind its hand. “Don’t you think it would’ve looked bad if we _weren’t_ able to do it? This recipe was listed as ‘a good dish for parents to make with kids seven and up.’ Even little kids can make this. If we failed, it would mean that we’re even worse in the kitchen than them.” 

“But we _were_ able to make it, and that’s what really matters. It looks great, and Isa is going to love it. Won’t he?”

“I’m sure he will.”

Roxas shrugged – 

“I don’t know about that. I thought Isa liked fancy stuff,” he muttered, though Xion was quick to silence him with a sharp elbow to the side that had him grumbling within seconds. 

“Who says a lasagna can’t be fancy?” Lea retorted. With an arrogant smile and a dramatic flourish, he pulled a bundle of basil from the counter and waved it in front of Roxas’s face. “Anything can look nice if it has garnish. Just look at this thing. It’s green, it’s organic, and it was really expensive. That’s practically screaming ‘fancy.’ Don’t you think so?”

“Do you even know what that is? Herbs can taste really different depending on what they are,” Xion explained, sounding every bit like a gently lecturing mother. “Are you sure you want to add it? If we’re not careful, we could ruin the recipe.”

“Roxas is right, though: it has to be fancy,” Lea lamented, throwing the basil down onto the table. “It just has to be. I don’t want Isa to look at this, and get disappointed, and start thinking to himself that Xemnas could have done ten times better. I need him to like this.”

“You worked hard on it. There’s no way he won’t.”

“That’s not good enough for him,” Lea sighed – and just a little twinge of guilt flashed through Isa’s heart before he smothered it back down into oblivion. “Isa was never a person who cared about how hard you worked or about what you meant to say. The only thing that matters to him is what _is_. I just want Isa to be happy, for once.”

“He will be,” Xion reassured him. “You’ll see. Even if he doesn’t like the lasagna, I think that good intentions mean more to him than you think they do. He can get really sentimental sometimes, even if he tries to hide it.”

“You mean that he gets sentimental about Xemnas.”

“And about you, too. He loves you. Maybe you don’t notice, but he’s always looking at you. Even when it’s all of us together, with Sora, and Aqua, and everyone else, Isa never looks at anyone but you.”

With an embarrassed smile, glowing with joy and gratitude, Lea gave the final, approving nod for Roxas to cut up the basil and sprinkle it on top of the dish. 

“Thanks. You know, maybe you’re right,” Lea admitted with a gentle chuckle. “Even if the food tastes bad, I’m sure Isa will be happy that we took the time to make it – and that he didn’t have to cook, for once. He’s always stuck behind the stove. Maybe I should start taking him out more often. What do you guys think?”

“Like, on dates?” Roxas asked, glowing beet red.

“I think that’s a great idea,” Xion answered, cutting him off. “I’m sure that would make him feel special.”

Encouraged by Xion’s validation, Lea couldn’t help but chuckle. “Maybe I can sell my games and use that money to take him somewhere nice, for once.”

Isa couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Enamored with that stupid machine, Lea could spend hours plastered to the sofa, skipping work, rejecting invitations for sex, just to stay up all night and stare at that television monitor. Ripping that controller from Lea’s hands was like separating a baby bird from its mother. After Isa had tried enacting parental controls to limit his screen time, Lea had thrown an explosive temper tantrum so embarrassingly unconstrained that Isa really did feel like his mother, at that point. Lea had insisted, time and again, that he didn’t want to be treated like a child, and yet he’d acted just like a toddler whose mother had denied him a candy bar at the checkout counter. After that incident, Isa had been so sexually repelled by Lea that they hadn’t slept together for months afterwards. 

He’d believed Lea to be hopeless when it came to those videogames, and yet there he was, offering to sell them. For _him_.

Hidden in the shadow of the entryway, Isa stood mesmerized by his uncharacteristic selflessness, as Lea continued listing off every little thing that he could do in order to save money: begging his boss for more hours, clipping coupons, cutting back on ice cream and soda. It was then that Isa realized just how rare it had become for anyone to make sacrifices on his behalf, no matter how small. As a former enemy, he’d always been their “family’s” last priority – or at the very least, it wasn’t difficult to believe that he was. But the way Lea spoke of him, with fondness and overflowing affection, almost made Isa feel as though he had his old friend back again: the dear, old Lea who was his and his alone, before his map had expanded to include Twilight Town and The World That Never Was. Eternally sixteen years old, that version of Lea lived on in Isa’s memories as the boy who spoke of him as though he shined brighter than the moon and stars.

He felt that familiar tug in his heart, and his vision blurred. He hadn’t even noticed Lea approaching him until it was too late.

“…Isa?” Jostled back to awareness, he looked up and realized that Lea was staring straight at him as he huddled in the shadows like a hermit, fearing the light of day. “I, uh… I thought you were sleeping.”

“I heard shouting,” he muttered, caught off guard and quickly making excuses. “I wasn’t expecting you to return home until midnight. I’d worried that, perhaps, I’d left the door unlocked, and some malcontents were busy ransacking our home.”

Xion gasped, its hands, flying to cover its gaping mouth. “Oh, did we scare you? I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about that.” 

He couldn’t stand the sound of its voice. 

“What is all of this?” he asked, ignoring its question. 

“I wanted to do something nice for you,” Lea began. “To say sorry for everything I said. For threatening to throw away Xemnas’s stuff and for trying to tell you how to grieve and when to get over it. I said some pretty awful things, and the more I thought about it, the more I wished I could just take it back. I knew you’d come storming home to take your pills and your booze and fall asleep for gods only knew how long. But just thinking about you, waking up in an empty house, in the dark – it was just so sad that I… I couldn’t let that happen. I didn’t want you to have to get up alone and make dinner for us, when I knew you’d still be mad at me and still upset about everything that happened, so I wanted to take that load off of your shoulders, at the very least. I know it’s not as nice as what you can make, with all your fancy tricks, but I really hope you like it.”

“I wasn’t even expecting an apology, much less a homecooked dinner. You didn’t have to do anything of the sort,” Isa remarked, just barely mustering the dignity to repress his smile. He could feel it pushing back hard against the confines of its cage, struggling to break free despite his propensity for holding grudges. He just couldn’t stay bitter when Lea looked at him like that, with that apologetic, lopsided grin and that innocent tilt of his head. 

“Maybe I didn’t have to, but I wanted to.”

“Oh? But whatever happened to your movie? I know that you were looking forward to watching it just as much as Roxas was.”

“Come on,” Lea laughed. As he drew closer, Isa took an instinctive step back – but he just wasn’t fast enough to evade Lea’s hand, gripping down onto his wrist, to practically drag him into the bright and bustling kitchen. “You really think that I could sit there, laughing at cartoons and shoving popcorn in my mouth, when you were so upset? I love you, Isa. I know that I’m not always the most reliable guy in the world, but I’m not _that_ flaky. I wasn’t going to let you down, this time.” 

“There’s gonna be a thunderstorm tonight, anyway,” Roxas added, ruining the moment. “We would’ve had to take a taxi back, if we’d stayed.”

“Roxas!” Axel leapt on him in an instant, ruffling his hair just a little too aggressively. “Why’d you have to tell him that, _you little snot_?”

The three of them, Lea and the kids, burst into raucous laughter, boisterous and charming, but Isa, silent, could only focus on the memory of those three little words, echoing in his mind. 

Lea had gotten into the habit of saying “I love you” at least twice a day – sometimes more. They were the very first words that he said in the morning, and the last, before they slept at night. Even when they went to bed, angry and arguing with each other, that simple fact didn’t change. Lea was never so petty as to hold that sentiment hostage. There had been a time in Isa’s life when he’d believed that if only he could hear those words recited a hundred times, or perhaps a thousand, then he could finally come to believe them. But Lea’s actions, placing Xion and Roxas’s needs before his own, had caused Isa to doubt the depth of his devotion. Was he a beloved partner – or merely a convenient source of income? There were more days than not, as of late, when Isa believed the latter. 

But there were simple moments and little things that always kept him hanging onto a single thread of hope. 

Lea led him to the table and pulled out his chair so that he wouldn’t have to struggle through the fine motor movements. When he slid his plate across the table, it was practically drowning in cheese – though the garnish was admittedly a nice touch. 

“Is that basil?” Isa asked, knowing that the mere fact that he’d noticed would mean the world to Lea. 

“Yeah. The farmer’s market was closing up for the storm by the time I got there, but I was so sweaty and so out of breath from running all that way that they made one last sale, just for me. I bought fresh tomatoes, too. Made the sauce myself, and everything.”

Roxas fumed from the corner – “Then what did me and Xion do? Sit in the back, picking our noses? We helped!” 

Giving credit where credit was due, Lea lifted his hands in feigned surrender. “Yes. Yes, you did. You kids really helped me out, and I owe you big time.” 

“How ever did you rope them into this?” Isa asked, unable to repress his curiosity. He wondered, silently, if Lea had bribed them.

“Roxas and I volunteered,” Xion answered, as it grated even more cheese onto his plate. “What are friends for?”

What, indeed? Isa certainly didn’t have any, so he simply wouldn’t know. Despite that fact, he put on a tight, thin smile that only grew sincere when Lea placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and began pestering him to try his little kitchen experiment.

It was so incredibly salty that Isa swore he could feel his tongue shriveling up just from touching it. 

“So, what do you think?” Lea asked. Practically bouncing off the walls from excitement and anticipation, that man just couldn’t stop smiling. In the end, even Isa didn’t have the heart to destroy him upon his critique.

“It’s… somewhat salty, but surprisingly flavorful. I’m shocked that you were able to prepare something like this, when you were forced to repeat cooking classes in secondary school.”

“Hey, so did you!” Lea argued, taking a seat beside him. His chair skittered against the tile, as Lea pushed his chair so close to him, that their shoulders were almost touching. “You were my partner both times, remember? Maybe you’re a good cook now, but back then, you were the only kid who could ever burn a salad – and who would ever think to make a centipede sandwich.”

Isa had almost forgotten those moments, but Lea had such a wonderful memory.

“I wonder what ever happened to that boy.”

“He’s probably still in therapy.”

“Perhaps we should pay him a visit at our next high school reunion.”

Isa had only been joking, and yet, with that single suggestion, Lea’s expression lit up like fireworks. “Hey, yeah, we really should go to that thing! Maybe not to rub it in that kid’s face, but just so we can show off a little. You know? Maybe we won’t be the most successful couple there, but we’re definitely the best looking.”

“Rather generous of you, to include yourself in that assessment.”

“…You’re such an ass.”

With a smile as bright as the sun, itself, Lea struck a playful punch against his shoulder, and Isa felt sixteen all over again.

______________________________

As lovers, Lea and Xemnas stood at opposite ends of a spectrum, without a single similarity shared between the two of them, other than the fact that neither man ever dared to leave Isa unsatisfied. With their own unique focuses and methods to their madness, it almost felt, to Isa, as though he’d engaged in two completely different acts, altogether: a different song and dance for each man he’d loved enough to call a partner. 

Smearing his makeup, Xemnas snapped his shackles and showed his true face, flaws and all, in the confines of their bedroom. Turning so distinctly human, he put all of life, itself, to shame with the strength and the splendor of his vivacity. It was a slow and sinister metamorphosis. What began as gentle bruises sucked against Saïx’s collarbone had transformed into shameless, piercing bites by the time their true Organization’s days could be counted on a single hand. Almost as though he’d known, through his seemingly infinite wisdom, that they would never see each other again, Xemnas had seen it fit to mark him one last time. On their final night together, he’d snapped his canines down onto the side of Saïx’s neck, leaving a scar that still hadn’t healed, even to that very day, after he’d changed his name, his eyes, and even his lover. 

Like the man who left it, that lingering wound haunted him, scarring a smooth and solid white, pure as winter’s first snow. One last memento, leaving behind all of the sentiment, all of the longing, that Xemnas couldn’t express through words alone. 

All of his potential and all of their history lay in that wound.

When Lea discovered its origin, he’d begun asking him to cover the bite in concealer, insisting that he just couldn’t get it up, if he didn’t. That suggestion had wounded Isa more than anything, when he knew that if Lea and Xemans’s roles had been reversed, Xemnas would have never spoken so carelessly as to insinuate that any part of him were shameful. Instead, he would have traced his teeth over that scar and bit down hard, erasing Lea’s mark and drawing a bleeding string of his very own. Marking a series of warm, red pearls, to complement Isa’s mourning veil until the day that he, too, returned to the void. 

But that was the difference between them. 

Lea never hurt him, even when he wanted the memories to last. After Isa showered and crawled back underneath the blankets, it was almost as though they’d never touched each other at all. 

Even if Lea’s own brand of tenderness had its appeal, Isa missed the possession and the intimacy – not as though he would ever admit it, when evidence of Lea’s insecurities popped up one or twice every month. Betraying his uncertainty, Lea would ask him, at times, whether Xemnas was bigger, or if he lasted longer, or whether he could put that silver tongue to use in more clever ways than one. 

He was, he did, and he certainly could.

But to Lea, those questions would always remain as mysteries. Isa wasn’t about to dignify them with genuine responses, when Lea’s tone practically dripped with hostile judgement. He knew that look in his eyes, asking him in silent, accusatory stares, just how he could have ever fallen so low as to open up his feeble little heart to such a monster in the first place. 

How could he have ever allowed himself to sink to such shameless depths of degeneracy?

Isa felt the pressure closing in on him. He couldn’t help but get the feeling, sometimes, that Lea thought of him as something that wasn’t entirely human: something too pure and too good to have been deceived by Xemnas’s cheap parlor tricks. Blessed with divinity, Isa should have known better than to clip his own wings and throw himself from the heavens like a fool. That was what Lea’s pitying gaze always told him, and that was certainly why he always insisted on his gentle touches and kind words, refusing to go any faster than a snail’s pace, all in fear of hurting him. 

In stark comparison to Xemnas, in the bedroom, every part of Lea was soft and gentle. Dressed in casual pajamas, with his soft, straight hair, parted on the side and tucked neatly behind his ears, Lea looked innocent, somehow. Shedding away his boisterous shell alongside his hair gel, every night, Lea regressed from a loudmouthed clown into a simple, affectionate partner who clung to him beneath their blankets.

“I love you,” Lea whispered, as he blew out the candles. The raging thunderstorm had cut off their power ages ago, leaving them, now, in total darkness, broken only by flashes of violent lighting. 

“…I love you, too.”

Lea settled behind him, snaking his thin, wiry arms around his waist and nuzzling against his shoulder blade. Soothed by the gentle rise and fall of Lea’s breaths and the steady torrent of rain striking their bedroom window, Isa drifted off to sleep, carried away on dreams of his childhood days. 

\----

Shaking his flashlight to jostle the batteries, he trailed behind Lea as his dear, best friend led the way down an endless stretch of metal train tracks. The light of the full moon shined down upon them, casting a deep and eerie glow that amplified the moving shadows. 

That was what Isa had always loved about the moon. It made no light of its own but instead took what it was given and transformed it into something so singularly beautiful that it had captivated composers and poets for centuries. Nocturnes and sonnets, written in its honor, outnumbered even the offerings made to the sun from which it drew its power. 

And it was the light of the moon that led their way, deeper into the black forests of Radiant Garden’s outskirts. 

His heart was racing, but Lea knew him better than he even knew himself. As though sensing his discomfort, Lea rushed to his side, gripping onto his hand like a lifeline, as they continued their search for the fabled hidden mansion that crossed over into their world from the afterlife, only on the night of a full moon. 

Lea turned to him and said something, but Isa couldn’t hear the words. It didn’t matter. His distinctive presence, radiating courage and light, was enough to bring him comfort. Following blindly, Isa hid behind Lea’s back and clung to his tank top. 

“I don’t recognize this place,” Isa stammered. Beneath his feet, the well-maintained Radiant Garden rail tracks had suddenly given way to rust and rot. Polished steel turned to festering wood, consumed by moss and wild mushrooms until they disappeared entirely, engulfed by the earth. 

“Lea, I’m scared. I want to go home.”

Isa couldn’t hear Lea’s voice, but those lively hand gestures spoke louder than words. Just a little farther. Just a little more, and they could be the coolest kids in the school. Oh, the stories they’d tell. Isa didn’t have to worry; he would protect him with the frisbees that he’d styled with paint and permanent marker. Filled with love, and faith, and hope, they possessed the power to ward away evil – or so Lea had claimed, in the past. Isa wished that he would have taken the logical approach and repeated what he knew in his mind: that ghosts and monsters weren’t real. There were no other worlds out there, and there was nobody that could spirit him away.

Though he’d certainly tried, Isa couldn’t focus on Lea’s face. He saw that familiar button nose and that playful smile, but when he tried to look further up, he just couldn’t focus his vision. His world was spinning, his eyes, hazy. He was only ten years old, and yet the thought flashed through his mind that this is how he’d felt when he’d overdosed on hydromorphone and withered in the darkness of the valley of death, until someone – it must have been Lea – stuck that needle in his arm and shot life back into his body before it turned to nothing more than dust and ash. 

“I don’t feel so good. …Lea, are you listening?”

But Lea had stopped walking entirely. Isa bumped into him and stumbled back, falling onto the wet grass. Up above him, the yellow moon had fallen so close, that Isa almost feared being sucked in by its gravity. With a shuddering gasp, he dug his fingers into the weeds, as though their fragile little roots could tether him to the earth and save him from falling up. Nausea rose in the pit of his stomach; he couldn’t look at that horrible moon any longer. 

But when he turned his gaze back towards the horizon, there it was: the black mansion, towering into the sky, taller than even Radiant Garden’s castle. A cold shudder tore up his spine, and Isa began to tug at Lea’s arm in earnest. 

“I want to go home!” he shouted, already weeping.

When he turned around, however, “home” had disappeared. There was nothing behind them. Nothing at all but encroaching darkness, so thick, Isa swore that he could reach out and touch it. Both the castle and the railway had disappeared, leaving them stranded in another world. 

He felt Lea pulling him forward, and he protested, screaming like a banshee, but his friend’s joyous, playful smile never wavered. They reached the front steps, and Isa tugged so hard, he felt his shoulder pop. Agonizing pain searched through his little arm, and he couldn’t fight him any longer. With tears streaming down his face, he collapsed against the ground, and let Lea drag him up the steps until his knees were scraped, bruised and bloody. 

By the time they reached the porch, however, Isa hardly needed Lea’s support any longer. 

The house… it called to him. Though it whispered a name that he didn’t recognize, Isa knew, from a place deep within his heart, that it beckoned to him. _Him_ , and no other. He heard scratches coming from behind the door. Footsteps and knocking, the calling of a dead name, and yet, hypnotized, he stood and walked closer. 

One step after another. 

It called to him with a smile that blended into painted sunflowers.

“ _Saïx_.”

\---

Startling awake, Isa jolted upright, catching his breath as his eyes adjusted slowly to the darkness. Without moving his head, he glanced down at his bed partner, just to ensure that he wasn’t dreaming. He just couldn’t tell. 

Even in the waking world, he could still hear it. That infernal scratching came from his window – 

When Isa turned to face his monster, however… it was nothing more than a tree branch, jostled about by the storm until it scratched up against the glass. All of that buildup for such a mundane discovery. Isa was so intensely irritated at his own childish stupidity and irrational fear that he was more than half-tempted to storm up to that window and tear that branch from its trunk. After months of Isa’s nagging, Lea still hadn’t trimmed the hedges and overgrown trees. 

If Isa wanted anything done, much less done right, he simply had to do it himself. 

Exhausted, he fell back against his bedding and dared himself to glance at his alarm clock. Two in the morning. Still with hours to go before he woke, Isa closed his eyes and tried his best to catch a few more moments of precious sleep before he had to put on his suit and go about his grueling routine all over again. 

Outside, the wind blew against his windows with such indominable force that he could hear the glass shaking in its panels. Thunder tore through the air, shaking the very foundation of their humble little home. 

Cracking open a single eye, he watched Lea snooze away, lying blind and supine, completely oblivious to the tumultuous world around him. He looked so peaceful; Isa was undeniably jealous at how well he slept. With a tired sigh, dripping with somber resignation, he clung to Lea’s arm and wrapped it around himself before resting his cheek upon his lover’s shoulder. Instead of reinstating his efforts to fall back asleep, however, Isa watched the tree branch twist in the storm. Mesmerized by its dance, he couldn’t look away. 

Not until he heard the knocking. 

He froze in mortal terror, digging his fingers into Lea’s shoulders so strongly that Isa felt him drift awake below him, struggling against the smothering weight of sleep. Hypervigilant, Isa refused to move a single muscle. He focused his efforts, listening intently for a disturbance in the howling wind. 

There it was again. Incessant knocking, coming from his front door. 

“Lea, wake up.” 

Isa shook him in earnest until he finally grumbled awake, swatting blindly at his face, all the while. Even in pitch black darkness, Isa dodged his feeble blows with expert precision.

“H-Huh? What’s going on?” Lea asked, with his eyes, still closed. 

“Listen – do you hear that? Someone’s at the door.”

To his credit, despite his clear fatigue, Lea actually did pause to listen. “I don’t hear anything, Isa,” he grumbled. “It’s just the storm. Why, are you nervous? I'm sure it's nothing, but do you want me to check just in case? I can make you a cup of tea, or something, while I’m at it.”

“No,” he replied with a smile, relieved both by Lea’s dismissive answer and his offer for tea. With their tight budget, leaning more towards bagged teas purchased in bulk than to fancy, custom chai, even Lea could prepare a decent cup. “That won’t be necessary. You’re right: I’m sure that it’s nothing.”

“Who’d want to walk around in this mess, anyway? Just look outside. It’s the worst storm this city’s had in years. If anyone’s out there it’s… you know, probably just some guy who got stranded in his car or whatever. But he can go ask the neighbors for… whatever he needs. I’m too tired for that.”

So much for one of seven guardians of light: too lazy to help his fellow man. Leaning over to run his fingers through long, red hair, Isa couldn’t help but smile at Lea’s selfishness.

“Then we agree to leave any unfortunate, stranded souls to their own devices.”

“Yeah… that sounds good,” Lea blindly agreed, before pulling Isa into his arms and quickly falling back asleep. 

Out like a light. 

Comforted by Lea’s presence, Isa stroked his hair for just a while longer before he soon tried to follow him back into the void of sleep – but he hadn’t been able to relax for a mere five minutes before the knocking returned with a vengeance. Louder than ever, it shook through their home, rivaling the thunder in its fury. 

It was unmistakable, then – it was a person. And the knocking was coming from his front door.

But theirs was one of dozens of houses in the neighborhood. Surely, if it were a stranded driver, they could have visited another doorstep by then. With his curiosity, effectively piqued, and with all of his internal sirens, blaring louder than his alarm clocks ever could, Isa slid out of Lea’s embrace and grabbed his cane, knowing that he simply couldn’t sleep until he solved the mystery. 

As the old saying went, after all, there was simply no rest for the wicked. 

Before leaving their bedroom, he cast a lingering look at Lea. Whimpering in his sleep, Lea flexed his fingers, gripping weakly against the air in search of his lost bed partner. It was almost endearing enough to call Isa back into the safety of their bed, but a full ten minutes had passed since he’d first noticed the sound, and the knocking still hadn’t stopped. 

Steeling his nerves, Isa navigated through the darkness of their home like a blind man, swiping his cane along the floor to warn him, preemptively, of corners and walls. Irritatingly enough, the knocking died down almost immediately after he’d turned the corner into the kitchen. For just a split second, he’d thought that the stranger had given up and left in search of more hospitable rescuers, after all. He was just about to turn around and head back to bed when a gentle voice called from behind the door. 

It slipped its vines and blossoms through the cracks, twisting tendrils of smoke like burning poppy. 

“… _Saïx_.” 

He clung to the counter as if mere nails and simple granite could save him from the gravity. If his heart stopped at that moment, he wasn’t certain if he wanted to be revived. 

He could barely hear the sound of that voice through the pouring rain. He could barely understand, and yet he swore that it had called his name. Why, oh why couldn’t it by louder? Though the storm raged on, it never rose above a soft, pleasant lilt, so unreasonably civil, even in the face of a downpour. 

Crossing the kitchen to the front door should have taken no more than the work of a moment, but when Isa looked down, it felt as though he were still trapped within the confines of his dream. His legs felt like molten lead, melting and freezing into the frozen floor, hissing steam as he seeped between the cracks in the tile. Though he’d wanted to run, to tear that door open at the hinges, he hadn’t possessed the strength to act upon such boldness in ages. All he could do was press onwards like an invalid. His cane clacked softly against the tile, as he took one slow, agonizing step at a time, closer and closer towards the softly beckoning voice that called out the tones of a dead name from behind a windowless doorway. 

“Saïx.”

Oh, that voice…

Eyes wide with longing and dread, he clamped his cold hand over his mouth just to stop himself from answering: ‘ _There you are. Where have you been all this time?_ ’

He couldn’t let himself. Shifting his role from a passive onlooker to an active participant in this nightmare, acknowledging the spirit, would have meant that his feelings was real. The hope. The joy. 

Disillusionment would be the death of him.

“…Yes?” he answered instead, clinging to his coldness and his dignity, even as he drew ever closer. 

He’d had similar dreams before, but none that had ever lasted quite as long as this. Every time, before he received a single validation, Isa would snap awake to the sound of his blaring alarm clock or to Axel’s rumbling snores. He wanted the mystery, the romanticism, to last for just a little while longer.

Creeping to the door, he didn’t dare look through the peephole, so reluctant was he to break the illusion. He couldn’t even say his name.

“Saïx… I’ve been searching for you since the very first day I awakened.”

He’d heard those words before, and with them, came the memories in a deluge that sent his pillars crashing down. 

Xemnas’s smile blended into warm, painted sunflowers. 

His custom cologne, mixed in little glass vials, wove bold notes of bergamot and amber. A scent that Saïx had been desperately attempting to recreate ever since he’d lost him. It was all so shamelessly decadent; Xemnas only started wearing that cologne when they’d started seeing each other in earnest. Every time they’d go to the theater or the art museum, he would mix a fresh vial and embolden himself with that scent, even when Saïx insisted that it simply wasn’t necessary. Xemnas always fought back, claiming, time and again, that if a marquess wouldn’t present himself in a nylon tie and cheap shoes, that Saïx shouldn’t be forced to appear in public with a lover that was anything less than the perfect accessory. 

To the backdrop of ballrooms and string quartets, Xemnas guided him through crowds with a firm and steady hand, pressed against his lower back. Maneuvering him through seas of empty faces with expert precision, he kept him carefully close, when he knew that Saïx couldn’t stand to be touched by anyone who wasn’t precious to him.

Xemnas’s voice called out his name one final time, and Saïx couldn’t stop himself from throwing open the door. For good or for ill, he didn’t care if he was pulled in by the gravity. 

Drenched to the bone, battered by the storm, Xemnas’s hair lay limp, dripping water as he ran gloved fingers through the strands, slicking it back. His black cloak clung to his body like a second skin. Though he stood tall and proud, he couldn’t mask his suffering. He shivered in the cold, his voice, shaking. 

“There you are,” he began, with a trembling smile. “Where have you been all this time?”

Dropping his cane, Saïx ran out into the thunder and the pouring rain to throw his arms around Xemnas’s shoulders. He pulled him close, tracing his fingers down the curve of his spine, over muscular arms and through tangled, white hair. Terrified that Xemnas could disappear without a trace at a moment’s notice, he wanted to commit every curve, every texture to his memory while he still had the chance. 

If it were all just a dream, Saïx prayed to the gods that he would never wake up.

Xemnas faltered under his weight, just barely catching them both as they stumbled from the porch and the meager protection of the crumbling roof that he couldn’t afford to fix. Abandoning all sense of reason, forgetting logic and fear, Saïx let his bare feet sink into the mud as Xemnas engulfed him in a suffocating embrace that flooded his world with color, calling his soul from the abyss of death. 

It felt like coming home.

Storm sirens pierced through the air, singing warnings of howling winds and blistering rain, but Saïx would have stood through a hurricane, just to linger in Xemnas’s arms for a single moment longer.


	12. Chapter 12

Stroking his fingers over Xemnas’s freshly laundered undershirt, Saïx held the fabric over his chest and let the warmth seep through into the marrow of his bones. Color and life returned to frostbitten limbs, charred black from the biting cold of an endless winter, a single blossom, unfurling through the frost. Alone in his laundry room, Saïx could risk the embarrassment of tender sentimentality, if only for a moment. Leaning against the washing machine, he held himself perfectly silent and still, until even the world itself stopped turning. Bustling life signs echoed from the kitchen. Running water trickled through the pipes, complemented by the mad dance of a knife against a chopping board.

More than anything, however, it was Xemnas’s footsteps, travelling back and forth between the counter to the stove, that flooded his heart with fondness and longing. They were so distinctly “Xemnas” that Saïx would have recognized them anywhere, in any shape or form, in a hundred-thousand iterations. As black boots, storming across the battlefield. Polished dress shoes, gliding rhythmically across ballroom floors and garden venues to the rhythm of a waltz or a lively polonaise, blooming in the cusp of autumn. Bare feet, stepping across their bedroom carpet to fetch him a cocktail or a cool glass of water, thousands of lightyears away in a barren, lifeless world that had, perhaps, vanished from existence the moment Lea and the others decided that it had no place in polite conversation. 

The world that never was and never had been faded from the universe’s memory to reside in Saïx’s heart, alone. 

If nobody spoke of that wondrous place, if nobody remembered, then it was almost as though those towering spires and the man who lived inside of them never existed in the first place. But with those footsteps, which could only ever belong to Xemnas, Saïx recalled both the memory and the qualia in startling clarity.

It was real. It had all been real.

Knowing that nobody was there to mock him, Saïx smiled like a fool. His heart soared. When Xemnas called his name from the kitchen, his deep, rumbling baritone lingered on the final syllable, just as it always did. It lowered him to gentle waters. Saïx felt the rush of blood within his veins at the very mention of his name in that voice. Savoring the domesticity, even while knowing that he had many more wonderful years and a happy future to come, Saïx folded Xemnas’s shirt and set it beside his trousers and his coat. 

He could have lived in that moment forever: his hand, lingering over Xemnas’s coat with unmistakable, unrepentant fondness. Blessed by cool, spring rain in the icy tundra, his restless mind could finally quiet, content and comforted in the knowledge that just down the hallway, never far from his heart, Xemnas was waiting for him. 

He could feel his presence. Life flourished within his home for the first time since he’d stepped through its threshold.

Knowing that he’d wasted more than enough time on reminiscence, however, Saïx quickly straightened his back and, with a quiet puff of breath, reaffixed his mask of calm neutrality, perfectly dignified. As he stepped out into the hallway, however, he caught a glimpse of long, white hair, and his heart raced anew, betraying the splendor and the cacophony in the depths of his spirit. 

He wondered if Xemnas, too, could recognize the sound of his footsteps. 

Oh, but of course he did. There was never any doubt. Hovering over a pristine, white dish, Xemnas tilted his head, searching for any imperfections or unflattering angles. But at the very first sound of Saïx’s footsteps, he glanced up from his work, his smile, softening beneath the veil of his long, white bangs.

“Poached eggs and filet au poivre to start the day. Number VIII’s meager pantry selection left much to be desired, but I did my best to improvise.” Dressed in his floral shirt and salmon colored shorts, Xemnas looked more like a shameless, summer tourist than a veritable giant who had towered at the precipice of godhood. Even so, Saïx never doubted his divinity for even a single, fleeting moment. Xemnas was beautiful, holy, and _his_. “Come, Love. Sit. You must be starving after spending the night, working tirelessly to clean up after my messes. I do apologize for the trouble.”

Oh, it was a mess, alright.

Three in the morning, and he’d ushered Xemnas, sopping wet and muddy, into the guest room. Silent as a shadow, trembling more from the excitement than the cold, Saïx had stripped off his clothing, and the rest was history. He’d branded that moment into his memory. Though Saïx had always been the first to scold Xion and Roxas for tracking mud into the house, when it came to Xemnas, there was a part of him that hoped, sincerely, that his footprints would never wash out of the carpet. Thirty years into the future, he wanted to gaze upon the evidence of the mess they’d made and feel exactly the way he did when Xemnas had returned to him. 

“You know full well that it’s hardly any trouble at all,” Saïx replied, as he followed his Superior’s instructions. “I’m your righthand man. Cleaning up after you is part of the job description.”

“Nonsense. Before all else, you are the one that I love. A man who burns as brilliantly as you do deserves nothing short of an eternally dependable partner, unwavering in his loyalty. I am the one who should tend to you.” 

He could feel the force behind those words, bold and confident, recited without a single hesitation. It was a refreshing change of pace, when everyone else spoke to him as though they simply didn’t know what to say. Saïx could always see the evidence of their struggle: Ventus and Kairi, looking at him as though they didn’t know whether to apologize or tell him that his suffering was only karma. Stuttering and backtracking, hiding behind their little white lies and their lies by omission. 

To that day, Saïx didn’t know the name of Xemnas’s progenitor. Nobody would tell him.

“Even after trudging about in the rain? How long had you been searching for me?”

“That detail is inconsequential,” Xemnas replied with an almost flippant disregard for his own safety. “I would have waited a thousand years for the privilege of calling your name from your doorstep.”

“…I know.” And didn’t that make him feel all the more guilty? “Xemnas, I never intended to delay our reunion for so long. I thought that you were dead – that there was nothing in my power that I could do to bring you back. I was under the impression that the others would never agree to it, when they refused to so much as speak your name in my presence.” It was like screaming to the void, living in an alternate reality where his experiences and his truths simply couldn’t be validated. Nobody would talk about it: about Nobodies, or Xemnas, or The World That Never Was. Ienzo was the only one that ever agreed to speak to him regarding Xemnas’s death, and only during their little therapy sessions, held once every two weeks. It was the only reason why he went; Saïx wanted to say his name and reminisce over all the little memories that kept his spirit alive. “If I had known otherwise, I would have –”

Cutting off his apology, Xemnas actually dared to press his index finger against Saïx’s lips, silencing him more effectively than a needle and thread ever could. 

“There is nothing that you should have done differently,” he whispered. “And there is nothing to forgive. As your Superior, it falls to me to take the lead. I will always find my way back to you. All that you must ever do is wait.”

He’d forgotten how wonderful, how freeing, it felt to strip off his armor and lower his shields. Knowing that the man beside him was strong enough to shoulder the weight of his crushing burdens, Saïx could allow himself the luxury of weakness and ineptitude. When Xemnas was so capable, when he always followed through his promises, there wasn’t any reason why Saïx couldn’t rely on him.

He trusted him. 

If that made him a fool, then so be it. He would wear the title with pride, showing off his own scarlet letter for all the worlds to see. Starting with Lea. Familiar footsteps echoed down the hallway, breaking the hold of Xemnas’s spell and unraveling the illusion of his perfect domesticity. 

“…Isa?” Lea called in that sleepy, mumbling voice that Saïx always found adorable. “Are you up already? Who’re you talking to?”

He shuddered. Hiding behind the shield of his pride and dignity, Saïx straightened his back and held his head high, refusing to play the role of the guilty party, yet again. Living with Lea, and Roxas, and that _thing_ , Saïx had endured enough public shaming to last himself a dozen lifetimes. But Lea had no ammunition against him, now. There was no betrayal, after all. It wasn’t as though Saïx was carrying out an affair – even if it felt like one. With all of the love and the emotional intimacy, even with none of the physicality, perhaps what he shared with Xemnas was worse than infidelity.

“Good morning, Number VIII,” Xemnas greeted before Saïx so much as had the chance to formulate a response. Xemnas rose from his chair with perfect elegance and moved to eclipse Saïx’s view of the hallway – and of Lea. “You’ve done well, looking after my dearly beloved Saïx during my absence. I regret to inform you, however, that your services are no longer required. As the Lord Superior of Organization XIII, I hereby release you from your duties. You may defer your responsibilities to me from now on.”

“Xemnas –” Lea stuttered. When Saïx started to stand upright, however, he felt Xemnas’s hand rest atop his shoulder: a gentle, steady weight which ordered him, wordlessly, to sit and stay. “No… No, no, _no_. That’s not possible. You’re supposed to be dead!”

“Ah, but it was your seven lights which illuminated my path from Purgatory, revealing to me the deep and profound truth that a heart of great virtue possesses the power to defy even fate. Do extend my gratitude to our dearly departed Sora for imparting that wisdom upon me before I passed.” Sickeningly saccharine, Xemnas’s voice maintained its soft, pleasant lilt, and yet Saïx could taste the acidity of his venom. 

Xemnas never sounded like that when it was just the two of them. 

“Sora is the one who deserves another chance at life. Not you!”

“My, how terribly uncouth,” Xemnas scolded, though he didn’t bother to hide that arrogant chuckle. “I would recommend that you stop shouting before you upset my Saïx any further.”

“His name is Isa!” Lea snapped back, spreading his arms and stomping his feet, puffing all his feathers up. “And he’s not yours. You don’t know the first thing about him.”

“Lea –”

“No, Love. Sit and rest for a moment,” Xemnas verbally commanded, then, steadying his grip on his shoulder until he finally stopped struggling. “Enjoy your breakfast and unfurrow your brow. Rest assured that all is well. Number VIII and I are merely engaging in a temporary disagreement regarding our roles in the workplace. Nothing so severe as to merit your concern.”

“Isa, what’s going on?” Lea asked, storming forward. Meeting his challenge, Xemnas closed the distance between them, standing in front of Saïx like a human shield.

“I… I don’t know,” Saïx answered honestly, though he knew just how pitiful he sounded. Making excuses, it was almost as though he were denying an affair. “He came back last night, during the storm.”

“Was he the guy you thought was knocking?”

“…Yes.” 

He could tell, from the tightening of Lea’s expression and the tenseness in his jaw, that he was sincerely regretting the fact that he hadn’t taken Saïx’s complaints seriously when he’d first brought it up. Perhaps he was wishing that he had been the one to investigate the sounds. Some dark, morbid part of Saïx’s psyche wanted to ask whether Lea would have informed him of Xemnas’s visit if it had been him who had opened the door – or whether he would have summoned his keyblade, murdered Xemnas on his doorstep, and buried the body in the herb garden. It would have only been a temporary fix. Xemnas’s body would have washed up eventually, but Lea always was a procrastinator. All he would have needed was to delay the confrontation. 

Saïx couldn’t bear to ask. He couldn’t.

“And you let him in the house?” Lea questioned, his betrayal, piercing through him like in an arrow in the heart.

“Of course I did. Xemnas is my –” He cut himself off before he said anything he could possibly regret, but Lea just kept on pushing. 

“…What? What is he?”

“Forget that I said anything,” Saïx replied with an exasperated, defeated sigh. “Please, Lea, I don’t want to argue.”

“ _What is he to you, Isa_?!”

Lea’s voice, sharp and piercing, echoed through the kitchen, shaking the windows. From above them, Saïx could hear the sound of footsteps and muffled voices: Xion and Roxas, awoken by the uproar. Saïx didn’t know whether it was the inevitable involvement of the children that paralyzed Lea in his place, or whether it was the horror in Saïx’s expression, but Lea drew back in shame, averting eye contact. 

Xemnas’s hand left his shoulder, however, and Saïx realized that it was the only thing anchoring him down. Instinctively, he looked up to reach for him, only to realize, in horror, that Xemnas was quickly cornering Lea against the wall. Though he never laid a single hand on him, Xemnas’s posture, his cold, unwavering expression, whispered a promise of death and war. 

“The next time you raise your voice towards Saïx will be the last time you speak.”

Whether it was out of humiliation, or anger, or grief, Saïx didn’t know – but Lea didn’t even bother to argue. Shaking his head, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the kitchen, towards the front door.

“Lea, wait!” he begged.

Pushing the table as he stood upright, Saïx overturned his cup of tea, the cup, rolling off the edge of the table and shattering onto the floor. Before he could chase after him, Xemnas blocked his path, extending his arm like the bars of a cage. Though it was made of nothing more than muscle and blood, Xemnas’s arm felt just as strong as titanium and moonstone. 

“Let him go,” Xemnas commanded.

And Saïx obeyed.

______________________________________________

Abandoning his home to a monster, Axel fled the grounds, rushing to stop the blood loss from his own wounded pride. He wasn’t running from Xemnas, or even from Isa, quite as much as he was simply attempting to flee from reality. When staying meant coming face to face with the undeniable fact that Xemnas had returned, all that Axel could do to save his own sanity was to search for a place where he could hide for a while, to come to terms with the changes of his life on his own time. Axel wished, however, that coincidence could simply fall in his favor for once, drawing Isa closer to him instead of pushing him away as it always did. 

Maybe he was just unlucky. 

Instead of his much needed miracle, the gods had sent Xemnas, a demon, to toot his seven stupid trumpets and usher in the end of the world as he knew it. It was typical, really. Axel didn’t know what else he’d expected.

He ran until his knees were shaking and his calves were screaming for rest. Searching for a place to sit and catch his breath for a moment, he dragged himself to the park and collapsed onto the swing set. The puddled rain seeped into the back of his pajama bottoms, but by that point, he was just too tired to care and too broken down to do anything about it. The longer Axel sat, however, the more he began to realize that he’d made a grave mistake: leaving Isa and the children alone with _him_. Though Axel’s better judgement raged against its bindings, struggling to escape the confines of thought to propel his nerves and his muscle to action, paralyzed with fear and the potential, the promise, of intense embarrassment, all Axel could do was sit, frozen on the swing set.

He wondered what airtight web of lies Xemnas was weaving in his absence and what irreparable damage was being done to his relationship with Isa. When the bridge between them was already smoldering, Axel couldn’t risk throwing down another match, and yet there he was, drenching the wood in lighter fluid. Running like a coward, he’d cut out his tongue, leaving himself defenseless against Xemnas’s inevitable verbal onslaught. He didn’t expect that man to pull any punches. He knew that somehow, in some way, Xemnas would turn Isa against him, and yet Axel just couldn’t stop himself from running away with his tail between his legs. 

He didn’t know how to put out the fire. 

Burying his head in his hands, holding back a frustrated scream, Axel didn’t know whether to be angrier at Xemnas or himself, for running away when he knew that Isa would worry.

He always did. 

Axel remembered the evening when he’d stayed out after work to see a midnight movie with Ventus. He’d forgotten to message Isa and the children regarding his plans, and a mere two hours later, stepping out of the theatre, he’d unmuted his phone, only to be greeted with five missed calls and thirty texts asking after his whereabouts. Each message grew in fear and desperation, Isa’s perfect spelling and meticulous grammar, breaking down into near incoherence, until the final text threatened, in caps lock, to call the police if he didn’t hear back from him by three in the morning. 

Though both Xion and Roxas had tried to reassure him that Axel had simply gone out and forgotten to call, forever a fiercely devoted partner, Isa couldn’t stop himself from falling sick with worry. One night with no contact, after all, surely meant that Axel was face down in a ditch somewhere, with a knife sticking out of his back. 

Consumed by needless anxiety, Isa had stayed up all night, pacing up and down the driveway in the dark, like a lunatic. The sight of him had twisted Axel’s stomach into thick, tight knots. The moment he’d caught a glimpse of him, Isa had rushed into his arms, clinging onto Axel’s body even as he’d cursed and berated him. He’d felt like a villain; it wasn’t as though Axel couldn’t understand. After Xemnas had died and vanished without a trace, Isa just couldn’t endure another unexplained disappearance. 

After that day, Axel had made him a promise: if they couldn’t always be together, then at the very least, Isa would always know where he was. 

Running away from the house without a single warning was, Axel knew, a flagrant breach of Isa’s trust in him. With miserable, growing anxiety, Axel buried his fingers in his hair and tugged. When he returned home, he’d have apologies to make, damage to control, and poison to cleanse after Xemnas’s field day, spitting venom like the snake he was.

He didn’t know how much time had passed. Axel was still wallowing in his own pity when he heard slow, steady footsteps scrunching through the damp grass, growing louder and louder as they made their approach. In a way, he almost couldn’t believe it: that Isa had actually found him, or, perhaps more importantly, that he’d left Xemnas behind to search for him. The warmth of Isa’s selflessness filled his heart, and Axel’s gaze shot up, his mournful expression, quickly replaced with a wide, beaming smile, glowing with love and gratitude. 

“Isa!”

Where he’d expected a flash of bright, blue hair, however, Axel was met with a curtain of white, cold and pristine as winter’s first snow. Like a god, looking down upon the maggots writhing beneath his heel, Xemnas regarded him with cold, golden eyes, held in a steady, unblinking gaze that never once wavered in the depths of its cruelty. 

“Saïx will not be coming for you.” Shamelessly bold, Xemnas used a painfully familiar handkerchief to wipe away at the rainwater on the swing adjacent to Axel’s. Silent as a wraith, he lowered himself onto the seat and gave himself a gentle push, rocking his heels against the grass. Dressed in that ridiculous, tropical outfit, Xemnas looked less like a monster and more like Isa’s personal dress up doll. Never had Axel ever believed that he would have preferred the sight of that thick, black coat. Even dark memories of past, long buried traumas would have been preferable to the uncertainty of the future represented by that clothing that Isa had hidden in their shared bedroom. Clothing and secrets that had now been released for all to see. “I fear that he is rather preoccupied with enjoying a wonderful breakfast. He has not a single moment to spare on your shameful outburst.”

He knew that it wasn’t true. There wasn’t a single possible circumstance where Isa could just ignore his outrage and stuff his face like an oblivious glutton. Even so, just hearing Xemnas say those words, forcing him to weave together the mental image, was more than enough to wound him. 

“Well, why aren’t you there with him, then, laughing it up, if I made such a fool of myself?” Axel asked, risking a glance at the man beside him. “I thought for sure you’d be scrambling to rub it in, talking crap about me while I wasn’t there.” 

“Oh, I was tempted,” Xemnas admitted without a single moment’s hesitation. “I made a promise to Saïx, however, that I would monitor your movements and hinder any potential attempts at, how should I say, ‘impulsive self-sabotage.’”

“You mean that Isa wanted to stop me from doing something stupid.”

“A fool’s errand, certainly,” Xemnas retorted in expressionless monotone. “You always were the laughingstock of the Organization, granted the freedom of independent existence, only as the price that I was required to pay to ensure Saïx’s loyalty. You walk hand in hand with ineptitude. In my own way, however, I recognize that the fault is not entirely yours. Innately, you lack the self-awareness to change your farcical nature, and that is surely an elaborate joke of the fates, alone. Watching you fumble about your life is not unlike watching a drunkard, raving from the rooftops and thinking himself blessed with the gift of flight. I only await the day that you jump. But of course, with startling consistency, you fail to meet even the lowest of my expectations. Who knows what you will do, when every action that you take is spontaneous, determined by nothing more than a coin flip or the alignment of the planets.” 

Nobody had ever spoken to him with such flagrant disrespect. Not his father, who cursed at him, or his mother, who made him repeat, time and again, that he loved her and that he would never, ever leave. Not even Isa showed him such a blatant lack of mercy, even when he festered in his anger and his bitterness. Refusing to look Xemnas’s way, Axel stared down at the grass as he dug his toes into the mud. It wasn’t until he’d already sat down on the swings that Axel realized he’d left without putting on his shoes. 

“You know, I just don’t get it,” he half-laughed, shaking his head in sheer disbelief. “What do you have against me? What did I ever do to make you hate me so much in the first place?”

“Oh, but I never hated you, Eight. On the contrary. Living in the realm of nonsense and absurdity, you amuse me. You wish to be treated with the honor and respect afforded to grown men, only when it is convenient, but the moment when you must face a man’s duty and take on the burden of responsibility, you regress to childhood, whittling your days away on ice cream and shallow friendships that never venture into a realm more intimate than casual conversation.”

Xemnas tilted his head and smiled, glancing at him with morbid curiosity. Wrinkles formed in the corners of those golden eyes. Surely, Xemnas must have noticed the change in Axel’s expression, shifting from embarrassment to pure horror as the thought crossed his mind that, perhaps, Roxas and Xion weren’t truly safe in Isa’s care, after all.

“…What did you do to Roxas and Xion after I left?”

“Nothing of significance. I told them to run along outside and play, while we adults settled our own affairs.”

Axel bristled at Xemnas’s tone, at his audacity to scold and belittle his friends, as though they were primary school children with no thoughts of their own, instead of strong, independent teenagers who’d earned their happy endings a thousand times over.

“They wouldn’t have listened to you.” 

“You are correct,” Xemnas replied, though of course, he had to sour that admission with another scathing comment. “A rare occasion, I’m sure. You should savor it while you can. The children paid my words no heed, but they listened readily enough when it was Saïx who echoed my sentiment.”

Axel’s eyes widened in horror. “Isa? Isa kicked them out of the house?”

“Why do you sound so surprised? Saïx holds no loyalties towards Roxas and certainly not for what he bitterly calls ‘the creature.’”

“That’s not true! He wouldn’t call her that. We’re friends. All four of us,” Axel argued, his words, empty. The more Xemnas spoke, the more he began to question Isa’s intentions. “We’re a family. We help and support each other. We laugh together. We have ice cream together!” 

“Was that meant to be a metaphor?” Xemnas asked with a dismissive, condescending scoff. “Allow me to rephrase the question: is ‘having ice cream’ supposed to mean something more than the simple, mundane act, in and of itself?” 

“Well, yeah. It’s –” Sharing ice cream on the clock tower with friends, enjoying the beautiful sunset, was supposed to represent trust, and love, and friendship. It was a representation of their appreciation of each other’s company. Wasn’t it? It occurred to Axel, only then, that perhaps to an outside party, their shared time together didn’t mean anything at all. Perhaps to _Isa_ , it meant nothing. “It means… It means we’re friends.”

“Nonsense. Saïx has never valued something as trite and replaceable as platonic friendship,” Xemnas corrected with absolute certainty, as though he knew Isa like the back of his hand. “He is far too selfish, too introspective and apathetic, to share his heart with anyone other than a solitary lover. You were never anything more than my temporary replacement: a cheap and disposable imitation that will soon grow obsolete. Like Roxas and Xion, you, too, have outlived your usefulness. The three of you are an unwelcome presence, a cancer, that I intend to excise from the depths of Saïx’s heart.”

Stunned, Axel could only stare back at him in frozen silence – at Xemnas’s joyless, neutral expression and the crooked tilt of his head, like a bronze stature, snapped at the neck. Never in his life would he have ever believed that any man could ever be so brash as to confess to his intentions of destroying a home and family as though he were the one in the right. 

“…What the hell is wrong with you?” 

It was all that he could say, paralyzed by the horror. Xemnas tilted his head even further, until Axel could have sworn he’d heard the vertebrae snap. 

“Nothing,” Xemnas replied. “All of the pieces are in place. Everything is as it should be, as I come, now, to reclaim my heart.”

“You should have just stayed dead,” he replied, resorting to petty insults only after realizing that he had no valid arguments left to make. 

“Why? So that you could have claimed Saïx as your partner in my absence? Is that truly the life that you would have desired for yourself? To live in shame, sitting upon the shelf as Saïx’s consolation prize, unadmired and untouched? Would you care for him to come to you during the night, motivated not by affection and desire, but by nothing more than his fear of the ever-encroaching shadow of solitude?”

“Me and Isa have loved each other since we were kids. I’m not his silver medal.”

“Are you not? Then perhaps you may answer a question for me, Eight: one that will determine the validity of Saïx’s devotion to your makeshift family. …Does Saïx hesitate before he says that he loves you?”

Bristling, Axel stood upright, sending the chains of his swing set rattling. Trembling from anger and humiliation, Axel growled as wild flames burst to life within the palm of his hand, and his keyblade blazed forth from the ether, heeding his call. 

“Maybe he’ll stop if I send you back to hell myself!” 

In the face of Axel’s threat, Xemnas only let a long, drawn out sigh, as golden eyes peeked out at him from behind the veil of his hair. It wasn’t the reaction he’d wanted.

“And how would you intend to defeat me?” he asked. “With that pitiful excuse for a keyblade, nothing more than a children’s toy?”

“You sure are eager to talk badly about kids, like it wasn’t Sora that put you in your place. Pretty sure Roxas and Xion would love to give you a taste of your own medicine, too.”

Xemnas’s lips pressed into a tight, thin line, though it wasn’t anger that furrowed his brow so much as it was… curiosity. “Assuming that you were victorious, how would you intend to explain my death to Saïx? How, dare I ask, would you muster the gall to tell him that you recruited the very children who tore him apart in the Keyblade Graveyard to return and exact the very same punishment against his lover?” 

In truth, Axel hadn’t even thought that far. “I… I don’t –”

“He would never forgive you. In fact, faced with such sorrow and betrayal, I wouldn’t be entirely surprised if Saïx hanged himself from the rafters.”

The mental image alone made him sick. He didn’t understand how in the world Xemans could speak about the possibility of Saïx’s death and suicide with such a casual, singing lilt, as though they were discussing nothing more troubling than sunny skies and summer weather. 

Losing his will, his focus faltered. Axel’s keyblade sparked and sputtered, vanishing with a cloud of thick, black smoke. 

“Fine. What’re we supposed to do, then, if we’re not going to fight?” Axel asked, staring down at Xemnas as he kept on rocking in his swing, back and forth, back and forth. “Are we supposed to live in that house together for the rest of our lives? All five of us? You know I’m not giving up on Isa, right? I’m not just going to hand him over to you.”

“Ah, but I never expected you to surrender him peacefully. With my weapon in hand and with blood on my tongue, I stand ready for war. If our roles were reversed, however, in your position, Number VIII, I would begin searching for alternative housing arrangements posthaste. Soon enough, Saïx will defect to the darkness of his own free will and leave you with nothing.”

“I don’t think so,” Axel argued. “You’re the one who’s going to be left in the dust. Isa belongs with us, in the light. If you want to fight, then bring it on. May the best man win.” 

“I already have.”

Stretching his tired limbs, Xemnas pushed himself to his feet, carefully avoiding the muddy patches on the grass as he made his way to the sidewalk, knocking against Axel’s shoulder in a ridiculous display of unnecessary machismo. 

“Will you be returning to Saïx’s home?” Xemnas asked, glancing back at him as Axel stood, frozen in place. “If so, then we should walk together. I am, after all, still oathbound to supervise your actions.”

“Actually, I was thinking about going to Radiant Garden for a while.”

“Oh?”

“I… need to ask those scientists about this. This is their fault somehow, isn’t it? Was it Even that brought you back?”

Axel knew that Even still held a grudge against him due to how he’d treated him in Castle Oblivion. Though Even was the one who provided Isa with pain relievers, Axel never suspected that he was doing it out of any lingering fondness of the two of them. 

“No. It was Ienzo.” 

He blew out a quick, puff of air, through clenched teeth, as a pitiful smile stretched across his lips. Though he wasn’t surprised in the slightest, Axel couldn’t stop that sharp pang of betrayal from tearing through his heart. He should have known better, however, when his relationship with Ienzo had only ever been professional at best and downright hostile at its worst. Throughout the years that they’d known each other, he’d been selfish and cruel. Unappreciative of his efforts, Axel had ignored his advice, both in their past lives and their current ones. 

“So, Ienzo gets a human name, and I’m still Number VIII… and Isa is still Saïx.”

“Names hold great psychological power,” Xemnas explained. “Addressing Saïx by the name that I have given to him reinforces the notion that he belongs to me. Mind and body, heart and soul. As for Ienzo, I owe him a great debt. The least that I am able to do is address him by the name that he prefers.”

“And I’m just a number to you. A thing – or a roadblock,” Axel finished on Xemnas’s behalf, unable to quiet his own, mocking laughter. 

“My, my, the idiom holds true. Even a broken clock is accurate two times a day.” 

“You’re such a –” Knowing that he couldn’t defeat Xemnas in a verbal battle, Axel didn’t bother to finish that thought, when it would surely only be used against him. “I… I need to talk to Ienzo. I need to know why he bothered to bring you back.”

“It was not his decision. Not entirely,” Xemnas clarified, just as Axel was about to pull out his gummi phone to call for the next ship to Radiant Garden. “My resurrection was an effort, months in the making, spearheaded by Sora and supported, primarily, by my progenitor.”

“You mean Terra.”

“Yes. My progenitor, in his wisdom and his mercy. He, who heard my cry and recognized me as an independent entity, created in his image as the physical manifestation of his mind and his shell. As my spirit lay in slumber within the confines of his heart, from the depths of my soul, I yearned. Even in the clutches of death and darkness, I longed to be reunited with my heart.” It was the first time that Axel had ever seen genuine life signs blossom within the cold mirrors of Xemnas’s eyes – the first time that genuine emotion laced his words. Instead of being relieved by the discover of Xemnas’s humanity, however, the revelation only frightened him. “I wanted to hear the sound of Saïx’s voice. To take his hand in mine, and to never let him go. Never again. Ienzo restored my body, but it was Terra who heeded the call of my spirit and Sora who testified to the legitimacy of my heart. I have every right to exist as you do.”

“No, you don’t. You lost that right the second you threatened my family. I’m not going to let you tear us apart.”

“What do you intend to do?” Xemnas asked, still lingering on the sidewalk. “Are you going to ask Ienzo to reverse the process of my resurrection? Even if that were possible, I doubt that he would agree to such a heinous act, when he has already agreed to aid me in more ways than one.”

Axel’s heart sank, as his mind ran wild with the possibilities: shadow alliances and unspoken promises.

“…What are you talking about?”

A cold, calculating smile wormed across Xemnas’s features, as he savored the silence of Axel’s growing discomfort. “I do believe I’ve said enough. If you wish to know more, then you will simply have to ask Ienzo for yourself. Should I inform Saïx of your intentions to depart for Radiant Garden?”

Anxiety crept upon him like a silent whisper, hovering mere inches behind his back. When all paths were obscured in darkness, he simply didn’t know which one to walk.

“Don’t give him any details,” Axel answered, at last, settling for a little white lie, if only by omission. “Just tell him that I went to Radiant Garden and that I’ll be back by dinner.”

“Oh, but there will be no dinner. I regret to inform you that, from now on, Saïx will no longer be preparing your meals. I will cook for the two of us and tend to Saïx’s every desire, but the rest of you must simply learn to fend for yourselves.” 

“…What about Xion and Roxas?” 

“What about them?” Xemnas asked, his expression, unchanged. Not a single trace of pity.

Sighing, Axel dug into his pocket and pulled out a few crumpled bills, handing them to Xemnas. “Fine. Maybe you don’t care whether the kids have anything to eat, but can you at least give that to them, so they can order delivery?”

“I will play the role of your messenger only once,” Xemnas replied with a sly smile. “Consider it payment for the amusement with which you have provided me. Now that you have jumped, I await the consequences of your fall with great anticipation.”

As emotionless as ever, Xemnas walked away, and Axel was left, staring down at his gummi phone. At the wallpaper posted on his screen – Roxas, and Xion, and himself. Three smiling faces, dressed in sunhats and beachwear.

Isa was the one who took the photo.

______________________________________________

After Axel’s arrival in Radiant Garden, Ienzo had welcomed him into that old, familiar mansion, leading him up the winding stairs and into the comfort of the drawing room. As always, Ienzo sat, sandwiched by his two towering bodyguards, nipping any of Axel’s misguided ideas of violence in the bud. 

“Do you want me to go get tea?” Aeleus asked, though Ienzo only shook his head and bade him to sit beside him on the sofa, across from Axel. 

“Thank you, Aeleus, but that won’t be necessary. I doubt that Axel will be joining us for long. He clearly isn’t here for the pleasure of our company.”

“I… never said that. What gave you that idea?” Axel asked, wondering if he was so intensely terrible at hiding his emotions that Ienzo was able to read his true intentions like a book.

“You only ever come to me when you need something,” Ienzo explained with an exasperated sigh, as though he couldn’t believe he’d had to fill in the blanks, “And Isa isn’t due for a refill of his medications for another twelve days. So, surely, there must be something else on your mind. It isn’t as though you’d ever stop by just to say hello. Not as though I take offense. You and I have our own social circles. If, in yours, I take the shape of a doctor, or a pharmacist, and nothing more, then so be it. They are roles that I play often and well.”

“Well, I _did_ think of you as Isa’s doctor,” Axel began, trying his damnest to stop himself from making accusations when he wasn’t prepared for the fallout. He had to take a lesson from Isa and be subtle. “But I guess, now, I’m starting to question what you really are.”

“And what is that? What do you think I am?”

“The way I’d say it, is that I know that in the old days, you and Even would have done anything for your research. I know that you hurt people. I know that you did awful things. I guess I’m just wondering how much you’ve really changed.”

“...Aeleus, Dilan, can I have a cup of tea, after all?” 

The two giants shared a quick, hesitant glance, before nodding their affirmation and leaving per their leader’s orders. It was clear that there would be no tea; Ienzo was simply getting rid of them. 

“Axel,” he continued, leaning in close, with his elbows resting on his knees. “Before I answer your questions, I have one of my own.”

“Go ahead. Shoot.”

“How is Isa doing?” he asked, advancing his pawns and starting the game.

“About the same as always,” Axel answered. “You know how it is. Some days are better than others. He was doing pretty well recently, but there was an ‘incident’ that happened yesterday that ended up undoing a lot of progress he’s made. You know, for a while, it was really like I had the old Isa back, but then something –” Axel shook his head. It was always _something_. A phrase, or a smell, or a color that would remind him of the good old days, and Isa’s mood would plummet. Oh, what he would have given to go back to the times when all he had to worry about were memories. “Something just had to set him off. I mean, something always does, but it’s never been this big before.”

“Well, I’m not surprised that his mood fluctuates. Isa hasn’t been taking his antidepressant. You haven’t picked that up in seven months, by the way. I’ve been keeping track of his fill history.”

“For the last time, he doesn’t want to take that thing,” Axel snapped back, barely able to hide his growing irritation. Subtlety clearly wasn’t his strong suit. “It’s not like I haven’t tried to convince him, but he’ll just flush it down the toilet, or toss it in the trash. He’s ashamed.”

“Of course he is. You tiptoe around the subject of his depression, you invalidate his grief, and you insist on pretending that everything is fine. So, naturally, the subject of depression becomes taboo, when the only choice Isa has is to feign happiness or risk upturning the delicate balance of his home life.”

That sounded like something that would have come out of Xemnas’s mouth. Bristling, Axel ran his hand through his hair with a forced, awkward chuckle. “Someone’s aggressive today.” 

Ienzo slowly shook his head, never training his eyes off of him. Never relaxing that disapproving scowl. 

“I have to be. I don’t like confrontation, that was always more Dilan’s strong suit, but I’ll advocate for my patients if I have to. There’s only so many times that I can reiterate the same information gently, Axel, before I have to admit to myself that maybe Isa’s care team is part of the problem. All that I can do, as a physician, is formulate a plan and provide you with the materials and the education to carry it out. But if you haven’t been implementing the treatments that we agreed upon, and if Isa is suffering because of it, then I may be forced to resort to something a little bit… unconventional.”

“Like bringing back the dead?”

There went his subtlety. Unable to play Ienzo’s game of social customs any longer, Axel snapped, exploding like an atom bomb.

“Like bringing back the dead,” Ienzo echoed with neither shame nor hesitation. “Don’t misunderstand my intentions, however. I didn’t do this to play god. Really, I only wanted to help. I couldn’t stand the things that Isa was telling me during our therapy sessions.”

“And… what kind of things does he say?” Axel asked, motivated by curiosity, much to Ienzo’s visible chagrin.

“You should know, by now, that I won’t break a patient’s confidentiality. All that I will say is that my conversations with Isa have left me with the distinct impression that I am the only person that was ever willing to hear to what he had to say. There was a reason why our appointments always went overtime, Axel. Isa just needed to talk. Now, why couldn’t he do that with you?” 

Because Xemnas’s name was banned from their household. There were never any written rules or verbal agreements holding Isa to that promise, but he was bound to it all the same. It was a silent, solemn agreement. Within the walls of their home, in order for all of them to bury the hatchet and move on as a unified family, it was better for Xemnas and The Organization to be forgotten entirely.

“…I just wanted Isa to let go and move on.”

“He couldn’t. The pace that you’d set for him was just too rigorous. Your expectations were too high.”

“What was bringing Xemnas back supposed to accomplish? Did you do that just to give him someone to talk to? There’s hotlines for that.”

“An anonymous phone call isn’t the same as speaking with a partner.” 

“A partner? Are you trying to replace me?” He’d never been so insulted in his life. Axel’s fingers twitched with an instinctive desire to summon his keyblade, and yet he sat still and held his tongue, knowing that if he snapped, then Aeleus and Dilan would come bursting into the drawing room, weapons in hand. Failures at espionage, those two giants were eavesdropping from the hallway; Axel could see the tips of Aeleus’s boots. “You really think that Isa will be better off with Xemnas as a boyfriend than me.” 

“After taking Sora and Terra’s glowing testimony into consideration? Yes, I do,” Ienzo answered with startling simplicity. Clearly, he’d removed the training wheels. There was no more beating around the bush with him. “As a doctor, I am bound by an oath of beneficence: to do no harm and to pursue the execution of justice. …And I have come to the conclusion that there is nothing just about watching Isa wither away under the care of an enabler instead of a guardian.”

“I’m not enabling him to do anything,” Axel retorted, eager to defend himself, even when he knew that he was quickly losing their little game. “I just… I don’t want to step on Isa’s toes.”

“What you’re really trying to say is that, out of fear of eliciting Isa’s ire, you purposefully avoid holding difficult conversations with him, even when he desperately needs the intervention,” Ienzo clarified, leaning back against his sofa with a sigh. “You know, I’ve actually been questioning your competency as a caretaker for quite some time, now.” 

“That’s funny – because the last time I checked, you were the one who kept hounding me to come back to Isa when I first resurrected. But here you are, trying to undo everything I worked for. What’s your deal, Ienzo? Whose side are you on, anyway?” 

“Isa’s. As his doctor and the closest thing that he has to a friend, I am on Isa’s side first and foremost, even if that means crossing you. Though, to be honest, Axel, if I may speak as a man and not just Isa’s doctor, I think that if you were a proper partner, then you would be at home, supporting Isa through this tumultuous time in his life, instead of sitting here, arguing with me, throwing a fit over what now cannot and will not be changed.”

“What do you know? You’ve never even been in a relationship!” 

It was a low blow, and a petty one at that, but Ienzo just shrugged off the insult with a scoff and a dignified pout, straightening his back to give himself an extra centimeter of height. 

“And yet I understand the intricacies of maintaining one better than you do. That’s rather troubling news on your part. Wouldn’t you agree?”

That cold, mocking tone had him shirking back in shame, and Axel knew he’d gone too far. Struggling to find the words to undo everything he’d said, all that he could do was fumble through halfhearted apologies.

“…Fine. Maybe. To be honest, Isa is the first and only boyfriend I ever had. I’m still trying to figure things out. I’m sorry for –”

“Don’t bother apologizing. This is what you always do: you speak carelessly, and afterwards, you expect everyone to overlook the past just because you happen to regret it. Your life consists of having one epiphany after the next, only the problem is that these are lessons that you should have learned ten years ago, Axel. I’m tired of dealing with it, and I suspect that Isa is, too.” 

Gods, what was there to say to that? Paralyzed, Axel dug his fingers into the sofa and slowly picked a hole into the leather with the nail of his index finger.

“Where is Isa, by the way?” Ienzo asked. “Did you leave him in Twilight Town with Xemnas just to come here and argue with me?”

“I-It’s… really not that far with the gummi ship.”

Ienzo only shook his head. “Well, don’t bother rushing back. Xemnas and Isa won’t be home.”

“…What do you mean? How do you know that?”

“I was the one who helped Xemnas make arrangements to entertain him,” Ienzo confessed, and Axel knew that this must have been the ‘extra help’ that Xemnas had mentioned to him, earlier. “When he first awakened in this world, Xemnas was weak and extremely slow to recover. Bedbound, blind and mute, he was able to communicate only through handwriting – though even that caused him excruciating pain. Even so, he asked me for help, all the same. He wanted me to help him purchase tickets for various events in Twilight Town: operas and orchestral performances on various days at various times. There was never any guarantee that Isa would want to attend a single event, nor was there a promise that he would even welcome Xemnas back into his life, but still, Xemnas insisted. He sat me down by his bedside and had me run through sample soundtracks until he came to a few choice decisions. I do believe that one of those performances was scheduled for tonight.”

“…You’re kidding me. You planned a fucking _date_?”

“Xemnas seemed sincere in his efforts, and he asked for my help. I didn’t have the heart to say no.” 

He had to be joking. An orchestral performance? Axel shot up, springing into action and storming out the door despite Ienzo’s multiple attempts to convince him to stay. For a moment, flying back in the gummi ship, Axel was determined to intervene, to drag Isa, kicking and screaming out of that theatre – but the more he thought on it, having yet another of his trademark epiphanies, Axel realized that making a fool out of himself and shaming Isa would only lead to the further deterioration of their relationship.

Instead, he would wait outside in the dark, pacing up and down the driveway, waiting until the moment when Isa returned to him. 

_______________

It had been a dream of his, ever since he was a boy. 

Holding his mother’s hand as they walked down the streets of capital square, Isa would glance up through the lattice windows of the theatre, at the gentlemen in their sharp, three-piece suits and the women in their flowing ballgowns, and he would wonder just how glamorous their lives must have been in comparison to his. How full of beauty and radiant light. If only he were thirty years older, perhaps he, too could have expected more from his life than endless homework and filthy locker rooms.

He swore it to himself. One day, when he was older, Isa was going to sit in the box seats of an opera house. In his own three-piece suit, sitting beside the man of his dreams with thick, red hair and painted, tears beneath his eyes, Isa was going to be the envy of the theatre.

But five years had passed, then ten, then fifteen, and he never did find the opportunity to act on his intentions. 

When he’d been younger, he’d lacked the time and the money: exams were too frequent and his allowance, just a pittance. And life was so dull. Instead of saving up for the opera, it was easier to buy himself a shot of instant gratification in the form of sea-salt ice cream, and then boring vanilla, shared with the boy who had once meant the world to him. Their rainy-day fund was chronically empty. Isa had plenty of excuses, but as the seasons turned and he changed from a boy into a man, as Isa gave way to Saïx, he began to realize that time and money were only temporary setbacks, easily overcome with skill, age, and experience. 

As the Organization’s accountant, he’d had access to nearly bottomless coffers; as the only member spared from missions and busywork, Saïx had all the time in the world. 

What he couldn’t obtain was the companionship. 

Axel had wanted nothing to do with him, but even if he’d had, part of the criteria of being a gentleman was being _gentle_. Axel hadn’t grown into the type of man who would appreciate an opera, nor was he selfless enough to endure a four-hour performance on nothing more than Saïx’s behest. Why in the world would he have sacrificed his own comfort just to keep him company and make his foolish, boyhood dream come true? 

They weren’t lovers. They weren’t even friends. 

It had never been worth it, to Axel, so it wasn’t worth it to Saïx, either. He’d wanted to sit in the box seats of an opera house, yes – but he’d never wanted to do it alone. 

It was Xemnas who had changed everything. Xemnas, who had surprised him on a summer day, years ago, with tickets, hidden in his work folders. Surely, Saïx had mentioned that little fantasy of his only once or twice, in lethargic, drunken pillow talk, and yet Xemnas always listened when he spoke, no matter how seemingly irrelevant the topic. He’d tucked the tickets within a floral printed greeting card, purchased for no specific occasion whatsoever – only to tell him that he loved him for what must have been the fifteenth time that evening. It was only an estimate. Even in the early days of their relationship, Xemnas declared the depth and the sincerity of his love so often that Saïx had simply lost count of the occurrences. 

As Nobodies, they’d gone to the theatre at least once every season, but even death and resurrection were not enough to break the cycle.

After Lea had gone and Xemnas left in search of him, Saïx began cleaning up the mess he’d made, only to find two tickets and a handwritten letter, sitting on the counter by the dishwasher. He’d run his fingers over Xemnas’s bold calligraphy and wondered if it would be considered uncouth to accept his proposition while Lea was missing. 

Though guilt had crept in between the cracks of his barriers, Saïx convinced himself that everything would be fine. Lea was a grown man, after all. He could take care of himself, and it wasn’t as though Saïx had vanished without a trace. He’d told Roxas and that thing where he was; they could pass on the message and manage the aftershock. After working so hard through the pain and the loneliness, Saïx had been able to convince himself that he deserved to be more selfish. 

So, he’d allowed Xemnas to take him through the dark corridor back to The World That Never Was. He’d let him dress him in finery and tie back his hair, sitting for him, still and obedient, like a little porcelain doll. He had no reason to resist. Their arms linked, they’d strode down the streets of Twilight Town, watching as the scenery changed from Saïx’s dull, middle class, cookie cutter neighborhood to the glory of the central district, bustling with life. 

Nearly thirty years since he’d stood in Radiant Garden as an outsider looking in, Saïx sat in the box seats of an opera house beside the man who turned his dreams into reality. A man with soft, white hair and golden eyes. 

Eager to maintain the appearance of honor and dignity throughout the entirety of the performance, Saïx never once shifted his gaze from the stage. It was only appropriate, after all, to give the performers the attention they were due, no matter how terribly he wanted to turn his head towards his companion and drown out the music in a wondrous symphony of silence. The sun and stars turned dim, his world went dark and faded into quiet stillness, every time he looked his way. 

Every single time.

As a grown man, he was expected to know better. Xemnas must have paid gods only knew how much for those state box tickets, and yet there he was, hopelessly struggling against the desire to focus in, solely, on _him_. Giving in to puerile impulsiveness, raging in a silent furor, lost behind the mirror, Saïx slowly shifted his gaze from the stage to the only person in the world who could ever truly hold his interest.

He looked up only to find himself caught by warm, yellow eyes, as soft as goldenrod in autumn. 

With just a perfect touch of acceptable audacity, Xemnas flashed him a subtle smile and slid his gloved hand down the length of his thigh, until it came to rest gently against the crook of his knee. Though Xemnas would never be so rude as to speak during the second act of a theatre performance, his expression, his posture, spoke louder than words. Right there, in the most prestigious seats of a bustling theater, clear in view for all to see, Xemnas leaned in close and brushed their lips together in a chaste, gentle kiss that reminded him of days long passed. It lasted for only a single moment. Saïx opened his eyes, and it was over. Prim and proper as ever, Xemnas had returned to watching the performance instead of him. 

Not a single word was shared between them, but that one, simple act conveyed the intensity of his love and devotion more than simple spoken words ever could.

Though he’d wanted more, though he’d wanted far more, Saïx knew that it was neither the time nor the place for such discourteous, impertinent displays of public affection. Still stumbling through the afterglow, he did his best to pick up the pieces of his dignity. Even still, as he slowly regained his composure, Saïx couldn’t stop smiling. From the corner of his eye, he took one last look at his lover, looking so sharp in his three-piece suit, before straightening his back and returning his attention once more to the stage.


	13. Chapter 13

“Do you regret what we’ve done?” Xemnas asked, as he joined him on the balcony of their shared penthouse suite. Sunlight flowed over the cityscape, trickling between towering ziggurats to engulf them both in warmth and light despite their nature, or perhaps because of it. Two wretched, heartless creatures, banished to the shadows, had still been able to find solace in each other. Surely that was worthy of the blessing of the sun.

After he’d lost his Xemnas in the Keyblade Graveyard, Saïx had taken to watching the sunrise from his patio, not for the beauty of the moment, in and of itself, but for the mere opportunity to watch in silent wonder as the world returned to life. The earth’s resurrection gifted him the chance to dream. Floating on the buzz of his morning whiskey, Saïx would sit on his porch and look off into the distance until it was time to get the children ready for school. In the stillness and solitude of the early morning, Saïx liked to imagine that his little stretch of road was the place where everything he’d ever lost in his life would come rolling into his driveway, if only he had the patience and the prudence to wait for it. If only that were true, perhaps he’d see his mother’s minivan rolling down the street, one day, with its broken bumper and his crude, childhood drawings, forever imprinted into the back of the driver’s seat. Crescent moons and five pointed stars, drawn in scented marker. And perhaps that lumbering van would be followed by a polished sportscar with cactus needles embedded in the seats. Staring into the blinding sun, watching for a trick of the light, Saïx could always pinpoint the moment when the heat would twist the black asphalt of his driveway, giving it the appearance of independent movement. 

And Saïx would wonder: if even stone and tar could be gifted with the miracle of life, if only for a few, short minutes in the coming of the sunrise, then what poison was he made of, to be cursed with such emptiness?

That mystery had plagued him for ages, and yet, as he was now, standing beside Xemnas on that balcony, he hardly needed to ask himself those questions any longer. It hardly mattered what material had been used to craft his body. Whether gold, clay, or lead, even if Saïx was made by the gods, it was Xemnas that made him mean something.

As he’d explored their penthouse suit last evening, it dawned on him that it was the very same room that they’d rented, all those years ago, when he and Xemnas meant nothing more to each other than the absolute value of their numbers. If Xemnas were any other person, Saïx could have explained it away as coincidence, but he knew full well, by then, that his lover was not a man who acted carelessly. Surely, selecting that room, above all others, must have meant something. Perhaps the familiar environment was meant to facilitate Saïx’s recollection of his years as a Nobody, shedding away the remnants of his humanity to recall the emptiness of his missing heart. Or perhaps it was simplistically symbolic, representing a return to where their relationship had truly begun.

To Xemnas, life was never anything more than a game of chess, and people, only pieces. When victory hung in the balance, every move needed to be made with foresight and prudence, with the calm focus required to propel oneself towards a greater goal. 

Every action was meant to have significance. 

Surely, even Xemnas’s current question was a calculated move. The Superior knew him like the back of his hand. There was no doubt in Saïx’s mind that he already knew the answer. 

_Did he regret what he’d done that night_?

Saïx could hardly regret something that he didn’t remember. A thick fog had settled over his memories, thinning the lines between truth and fiction. Though he didn’t remember the details, however, Saix could still recall the emotion. 

The opera house had featured an open bar, much to his delight at the time. Drowning his inhibitions in a river of champagne, Saïx had barely been able to walk at the end of it, as Xemnas led him down crowded, city streets and into their hotel. When Saïx’s legs had given out on the walk to the elevator, Xemnas had scooped him up in his arms and carried him like his little bride, through the threshold of their temporary home, laying him on their marital bed. Saïx remembered the sensation of nausea, a wave of it, rising at the sight of a spinning ceiling and blurred lights. A firm hand, pressed against his cheek, had grounded him, turning his face towards the side of the bed. Towering over his bedside, Xemnas, with his warm, golden eyes, looked down at Saïx’s body, heaving from the strain of heavy intoxication. 

He’d asked him a question, and yet Saïx had been far too drunk at the time for him to recall his answer with any reliable sense of clarity. From his memory of Xemnas’s smile, glowing with pride, however, Saïx knew that whatever he’d said had pleased him. 

His lover had engulfed him, then, his hands, all over, stripping off his clothing. 

It reminded Saïx, vaguely, of holiday mornings in Radiant Garden. Of sticky tack of tape beneath his fingernails, as he’d peel away the wrapping paper, inch by inch. The joy wasn’t in the discovery itself, but in the process of the revelation. It was the anticipation of opening gifts that always made his heart race, as a boy.

It must have been why Xemnas was always so slow to slide off his trousers. Taking his time, he’d always nip him here and kiss him there – 

Still as a statue, Xemnas leaned against the balustrade, supporting his weight on his arm, as he glanced out at the cityscape. One at a time, the lights came on, and Xemnas’s cigarette burned away, smoldering to solid ash, until Xemnas moved, once more. Pulling the cigarette from his mouth, Xemnas offered it to him, and Saïx took it, running his tongue along the edge before taking in a long, lethargic puff. 

Xemnas’s saliva was the least of what he’d shared with that man. By that point, Saïx was immune to the shame.

When he was a boy, sitting next to Lea in primary school, their teachers had gone around the room with a miniature model of a healthy lung and a cancerous one. At the time, little Isa had been horrified. Twenty years later, however, Saïx didn’t care if he got lung cancer, or if it was his cirrhotic liver that killed him first. Everybody died.

Saïx died more frequently than others. 

He already knew what it was like. The mystery was gone, and the fear had worn away ages ago. Even if the next death would be his last, if it was his fate to depart from the world before his fortieth birthday, then all Saïx could hope for was to opportunity to live a little, first.

Savoring the cigarette, he breathed in the poison, filling his bloodstream with pure, thrumming heat and the scent of smoke and death. In truth, Saïx much preferred codeine to tobacco. The pleasure and amusement that he took from the cigarette came only from the fact that Xemnas had smoked it first.

“I don’t regret a thing.”

“Are you certain?” Xemnas asked. “It is not my intention to cast doubt upon your sincerity, Love, but you seem rather despondent. Have I overstepped your boundaries?”

Saïx had no boundaries. Not when it came to him.

“No,” he reiterated. “I have no right to blame you for your boldness, when I was the one who accepted the invitation. This is the same suite that we shared during our first excursion to this world. You made your intentions perfectly clear.”

In that bed, engulfed in Xemnas’s embrace, his scent, Saïx had relearned himself. He’d pieced together his broken identity, his dead name and his sharp golden eyes, and remembered that his bones were made of polished moonstone. With Xemnas, deep inside of him, with his fingers wrapped around his throat, and his teeth buried into the muscle of his shoulder, Saïx came alive in a silent, roaring furor.

Lost in the memory, he glanced down at the towel wrapped around Xemnas’s waist and trailed his gaze upwards, scaling the curve of his Superior’s spine to a litany of deep, scarlet scratches clawed into his lover’s back. Clenching his fists, Saïx felt Xemnas’s dried blood crack beneath his fingernails. It branded him. 

“Did I? I doubt that any other lover would have noticed the room – though I knew, from the start, that you would understand its significance. You were always so discerning.” Xemnas’s hand settled on the small of his back, pressing insistently into the fabric of his bathrobe. Saïx shivered as he felt his thumb rubbing deep into his muscle, tracing the curve of his ilium. “This is where we first shared a bedroom,” Xemnas continued. “My love… even when I had no heart to call my own, when I was nothing more than a shell of a man, your attention held me spellbound.” 

“All that you had wanted, at the time, was my body,” Saïx quipped with a bitter, sardonic smile that was somehow sincere in its playfulness. As the saying went, time healed his wounds – or had it been Xemnas’s charm that dulled the pain? Somehow, losing himself in those warm, golden eyes, shining brighter than the heavens, drained the hatred and the grudge right out of him. 

Xemnas chuckled, and Saïx could feel the deep rumbling of his chest, pressed against his shoulder.

“Oh, but I still do. I only now prefer to claim you in other ways, entirely.” 

“You are absolutely shameless,” Saïx scolded, though his tone reflected neither anger nor impatience – only a deep fondness, glowing in its sincerity.

“You are the cause of my poor behavior,” Xemnas teased, giving him a quick peck on the lips. “My dear, you are far too lovely. Your beauty crumbles the foundation of my rationality. Standing in your presence, I fear that I can hardly maintain my composure.”

Xemnas’s praise, his vows, were so sincere that Saïx abandoned his shame all over again, forgetting the throbbing pain between his legs and the clotting wounds that marred his thighs, painted deep plum and scarlet with fresh, blossoming bruises. 

“I want to make the most of loving you,” Xemnas said. “I want to cherish every moment. To feel the warmth of your body, curled against mine.”

Like a bronze statue granted sudden life, Xemnas burst into motion, turning him around and caging him against the balcony. With a sly smile, his eyes, half lidded, Xemnas slipped his hand beneath Saïx’s robe to palm at his bleeding thighs. Despite the shame of allowing another man to undress him in public, Saïx held himself perfectly still, nothing more than a canvas for Xemnas’s playful ministrations.

Saïx shuddered under his touch, at the feeling of hot, sturdy hands slipping between his legs. It melted him from the inside out.

Xemnas leaned in close, whispering into his ear, “Come with me.” 

All at once, Xemnas left him: his hands, pulling away, and that deep, soothing voice, going silent as the void. Expelled from the airlock, thrown out to the cold and floating through the infinite vacuum of space with his lifeline, severed, Saïx was freezing. Xemnas took a single step back, and Saïx didn’t last a single second before he followed. With no light, no warmth of his own, all he could do was chase desperately after the light of the sun.

His cigarette, tossed onto the floor of the balcony, burned past its filter. 

Always two steps ahead of him, Xemnas led him back into the suite, encouraging him towards the bed with gentle praise and little, curling motions of his fingers. Despite the sluggishness in his weary limbs, heavy as lead, Saïx followed his Superior’s every command. 

“Come, Love,” Xemnas cooed, leading him towards the bed. “Indulge me with your mercy. I want to lie with you one last time before we must return to your home in the wards, and I will be forced to restrain myself until our next meeting. Saïx, leave me with a memory to warm my heart through the cold, lonely nights.”

Limp as a ragdoll, Saïx allowed his lover to maneuver him onto the bed, rearranging his limbs and slipping off his robe like wrapping paper. With a beaming smile, glowing with admiration, Xemnas settled over his body and pressed a soft trail of kisses against his jawline. 

“…I love you,” Xemnas whispered, mouthing the words against his neck. Saïx could feel Xemnas’s smile twist into a fleeting grimace the moment he wrapped his arms around his back, scraping his nails against his Superior’s freshly clotted wounds. The scent of thick copper permeated the air. 

Droplets of Xemnas’s blood trickled down his ribs and dripped onto Saïx’s bare stomach. 

“Even when you wound me, I love you, still,” Xemnas repeated, even sweeter with the addition of the pain. His blood flowed in rivulets, staining pristine, imported cotton a deep and vengeful crimson.

“Unfortunate, isn’t it,” Saïx chuckled, running bloody fingers through Xemnas’s hair, “That I’ve lost all of my magic? I can hardly heal your wounds like this.”

“I would not bid you to do so, even if you could. I want the wounds to scar.” As gentle as ever, Xemnas traced his thumb along the scar on Saïx’s neck, where he’d bitten him, all those years ago. “I’ve marked you time and again, already. It is only fair for you to lay your claim on me, as well.”

“And what will your peers on the Destiny Islands think of that, when you wander through their beaches dressed in nothing but swim shorts and battle scars?”

“My dear, I care not for any opinion but yours,” Xemnas corrected, silencing any afterthoughts with a kiss that tasted of blood and iron.

________________________

Sitting on his porch swing on a perfectly warm, summer afternoon, Saïx glanced at his side table and watched as cool condensation dripped down his little glass of lemonade, cutting a stark, clean line through the gathered droplets. A bright, playful pink, Lea’s old-fashioned, wholesome homebrew painted a bold contrast to the deep, dark crimson of Xemnas’s cocktail, sitting mockingly beside it in its pride and its beauty. 

A fond childhood drink served in paper cups, competing against an aromatic admixture of gin, vermouth, and campari. Before serving his drink, Xemnas had taken a little sliver of orange peel and wafted it over the rim of the glass for just a spritz of something light and sweet to mask the weight of heavy botanicals. Saïx had already sampled that particular concoction more than enough times to know that it was always far more bitter than sweet, featuring a caustic dryness that burned like napalm as it slithered down his throat. 

The scent was reminiscent of his grandmother’s antique armoire. 

It was nice in its own right, just as Lea’s drink was equally as wonderful in another way entirely. The scent of cheap lemonade never failed to elicit memories of his earliest entrepreneurial ventures: sitting with Lea in a cardboard lemonade stand, that they’d built at the corner of their cross street in the summertime. 

What was it that he’d even wanted to buy with the money?

…He remembered. 

During their youth, Lea wasn’t the only boy who’d enjoyed electronics, even if it was always a struggle for Saïx to afford any games, himself. It wasn’t as though his family was lacking in money; his father was a lawyer, and a successful one, at that. It was his father’s stern, quiet dignity that served him well in his work. He was a distant man with high expectations, who wanted his son to grow up quickly. It was for that reason that Saïx’s father had ignored his birthday wish-list every year, gifting him almanacs and star charts instead of the latest games and toys. If he wanted to buy anything pointlessly fun, he and Lea had to sell lemonade. 

That boy had sacrificed gods only knew how many weekends just to help him earn a little bit of toy money, so that they could hook up their handheld devices and compete against each other in games where Saïx won every single time. Saix had long forgotten the names of all the characters he’d ever created. He’d forgotten the pictures and the music, but he remembered the emotion. 

Playing games with Lea had been… fun.

In a way, he almost longed for a return to the simplicity.

As Saïx’s eyes traced the path of falling droplets on his little glass of lemonade, he realized that the ice in both of his drinks had already melted. He’d been sitting outside since morning, but now, glancing up at the horizon, he noticed that the sun was nearly starting to set. It occurred to him, then, that the sounds emanating from inside his home must have been coming from the kitchen. It must have been Xemnas, preparing his supper. 

It was that time already, and Lea still wasn’t home. 

When he’d returned with Xemnas that morning, he’d seen Lea sitting on the patio with his hair, drenched from the morning rain. He been waiting up all night for him. The moment Saïx stepped onto the driveway with Xemnas in tow, Lea simply got up and walked past them with a smile. He hadn’t even asked for an explanation. Twirling his housekeys in his hand, with forced, awkward laughter, Lea stated that he was going out to buy ice cream, of all things. 

When Saïx opened the freezer, they already had three boxes. 

Hours had passed. Lea’s favorite, local ice cream store must have been closed by then, and yet the man was still nowhere to be found. Pushing aside his growing anxiety, Saïx refused to dial his number. Despite the heavy implications, Lea hadn’t asked him where he’d been the evening prior; Saïx was gentlemanly enough to extend him that very same courtesy.

It killed him to do it. He needed to know Lea’s whereabouts, to know that he was safe, and yet it was only silence that spared his dignity.

Saïx’s hands were shaking. He’d taken two tablets of alprazolam already, but he desperately needed another. As a quick, makeshift, substitute, he reached for Xemnas’s cocktail and pounded it back, downing the liquor like water. It washed over him like a wave, dousing the fire in his nerves. It didn’t free him from the fear, but at the very least, it dulled the pain. Lea would come back on his own time. Of that, Saïx was certain. If he didn’t return for him, then he would swallow his pride for the children’s sake. 

It was with that thought in mind that Saïx was finally able to relax. Leaning back in his porch swing, he took a sip of Lea’s lemonade. Even with the ice, melted into the drink, it was far too sweet, too artificial, for his liking. 

When the front door squeaked open, Saïx didn’t bother to look up. He knew, from the timid softness of the footsteps, that it wasn’t Xemnas, coming to call him inside for dinner. It was, instead – 

“How are you feeling?” Xion asked, leaning over to peer into his face with innocent curiosity, perhaps spurred on by the fact that he didn’t so much as turn to address it, even when it spoke. 

He wasn’t about to dignify its petty questions with a legitimate response.

Taking his silence as an invitation to press further, the puppet boldly took a seat on the porch swing, right beside him, lowering itself onto the cushions with a gentle, pensive hum. Like a child, Saïx’s first instinct was to maximize the distance between them. To cross his arms and shrink into his own body. He wanted to press himself against railing until it dug deep, lingering marks into his arms. Restrained by maturity, however, Saïx ignored his impulses and sat perfectly still, with no reasonable option but to endure Xion’s presence in dignified silence. 

What Saïx had always hated about children was the fact their intrusive presence never allowed for a moment of solitude. After his mother passed away and his father had remarried, Saïx had been drafted into babysitting duties, though he would have much preferred to go to war. Forced to endure the ceaseless sniveling of his younger stepsiblings, there wasn’t a single day when he didn’t pray for his freedom. 

If only that freedom hadn’t come in the form of a quick and violent release from the world of the living. He wondered how different his life could have been, then, though for the sake of his own sanity, he didn’t allow his thoughts to wander for long. There was always the possibility that nothing would have improved at all. According to the news articles, his father had chosen to stop the police search for his body after a mere two weeks. 

His mother would have never stopped looking.

Not that Saïx truly cared, one way or another. By the time that he’d located and read his own missing persons article, Saïx had already grown into a man, well accustomed to betrayal. His father had met his every expectation. When he’d set them so low, he couldn’t be disappointed. That was what he’d told himself, and yet that night, when he sat alone, in his office, Saïx felt the void of emptiness settle within him at the realization that he didn’t have a person in whom to confide his amusing, sad little secret. 

Axel hadn’t spoken to him in months. 

He’d hated him at the time, but now that he stood holding the other end of the knife, Saïx realized that he’d never known how awful it felt to be the traitor instead of the betrayed. At the very least, as a victim, he could stand tall in the light of his own, perceived righteousness.

All he had now were regret and shame. 

“Isa?” Xion asked, interrupting his thoughts. “Are you okay? Are you listening?”

“No,” he answered honestly. No, he wasn’t okay – but more important, he wasn’t interested in listening. There was a time when he would have sugarcoated the bullets, but now, with Xemnas back in his life and with the final curtain drawing near, Saïx could risk extending his claws. When everything was falling apart, regardless, he may as well be the one to strike the final blow. As a child, coming across a dying dog on the roadside, he hadn’t had the courage to put it out of his misery, and so it had suffered for hours as he carried it into the city. He could still hear the crying, the heady scent of iron, the feeling of blood-soaked fur between his fingertips. As a grown man, Saïx would have snapped its neck and been done with it. With age came both the courage and the coldness to act decisively. “I don’t have the time for idle conversation. I have other more pressing matters occupying my thoughts at the moment.”

“Do you want to talk about it? It helps, sometimes,” Xion asked, in a tone that almost mimicked genuine, human sincerity. “I know you’d rather talk to Xemnas,” it added with a playful chuckle, “but there are things that even spouses can’t tell each other, right? I think that’s why having friends is so important.”

“This again –” he scoffed, running his hand through his hair. If he had to sit through one more lecture about light, and love, and friendship, he was going to hang himself from the rafters. “I’ve survived nearly thirty years without friendship, and I don’t anticipate any unreasonable difficulty doing so in the future.”

“You’re probably right,” it admitted, much to Saïx’s surprise; people didn’t usually agree with him, especially when he reacted to their recommendations with such scathing negativity. “I’m sure you can handle anything life throws at you. After all, you’re… _you_. You’re always been really strong. To be honest, I don’t think I would’ve made this far, in your shoes – and I definitely wouldn’t look as dignified as you do, struggling through it all. My eyes would probably be swollen shut from all the crying,” it laughed, its smile, mirroring fondness and admiration. “That’s how I know you’ll be fine no matter what happens. You could be shipwrecked on a desert island, all alone, and you’d still be okay. Still, I think that isolating yourself will make your life harder than it has to be, in the long run. Just because you can survive alone doesn’t mean that you have to. Everybody needs help, sometimes. Even you, I think – as strong as you are.” 

He did need help. He needed help often – but not from a person as casual as a mere friend. Saïx wanted to be able to rely on someone who knew him better than he knew even himself. What he wanted was a lover.

“Have you decided who you’re going to choose?” Xion asked, suddenly. The shameless, blunt nature of that question caught him so off-guard that for just a moment, Saïx forgot to monitor his dignity. Completely exasperated, he buried his face in his palm and slumped against the cushions. “ _If_ you’re going to choose, I mean,” it corrected itself. 

“I have to,” he answered with a despondent shake of his head. “I have no other choice. I can’t tether them both and expect them to coexist. That won’t end well.” 

He spoke more for his own sake, for the purpose of visualizing his ideas, than to satisfy that creature’s curiosity. 

“I don’t think it will, either,” it replied with startling clarity. Raising a brow, Saïx glanced its way and realized that despite his desire for silence, it had baited him into conversation, anyways. Their eyes met, and it smiled. “I’m really glad to hear you say that, actually. To be honest, I was kind of worried that you’d try to work out a compromise, and everybody would end up resenting each other. I should have known better, though: you were always the smartest one out of the four of us. There’s no way you would’ve done something so silly.” 

“You do realize that foolish compromise was precisely the path that Lea had chosen?” he snapped back, intending to wound – but instead, that puppet only shot him an embarrassed, reluctant smile.

“I know. And I don’t mean to call him silly, but… well, he tried to keep all three of us, and just look at where we are, now. I was really hoping that this would work out, and for a little while, I really thought that everything was okay. But looking back, I can see a lot of warning signs that I chose to ignore. I didn’t think that it was my place to do anything about them, but I guess that’s only making excuses. That was pretty childish of me, wasn’t it?” 

“It was, but –” The implausibility of pleasing everyone and the futility of trying, the ability to take responsibility without avoiding blame, was something that people came to learn only with experience. It was the type of advice that Saïx would have given a real child, so instead, at that realization, he held his tongue and said nothing further, allowing his voice to trail away. 

“I’ll grow out of it,” Xion continued with dignified confidence. “I learn a little bit more about what it means to be an adult every single day that I spend with you. Watching you work so hard even when you don’t want to and doing it all without waiting for someone to tell you, first – it’s actually pretty inspiring. So is watching you, having the courage to admit that something is your fault, but also the dignity to stand up for yourself when it isn’t. Growing up is hard, isn’t it? To be honest, I’m actually kind of scared to start.”

Saïx wasn’t stupid; he knew that it was trying to stroke his ego to soften him up for the heart of their conversation, which it was still attempting to avoid. 

“Adulthood has its merits. You see the world with clarity. Mistakes grow fewer and farther between, as you learn to prioritize and prepare for even unlikely contingencies. Most importantly, there is no one left to stop you from doing whatever you’d like.” No one, of course, but oneself. “It is only a matter of shaking off the inertia.”

“Is that what’s stopping you from going away with Xemnas? ‘Inertia?’”

Saïx scoffed, though he couldn’t help but let his scowl break into a snide, cutting smile. “Pushing me towards him, already? Are you that eager to be rid of me?”

Xion shook its head with furious insistence.

“Of course not. I want you to stay more than anyone,” it said, reaching for his arm. Before it made contact, however, it’s fingers twitched with hesitant uncertainty, and it slowly pulled away. “…I love you, Isa. You’re… my dad,” it continued, its voice, muffled with painful sentiment. “Or the closest thing that I have to one, anyway. For that short time when I still thought that everything was okay, living in this house with you was like a dream come true. I finally had a real life. Real parents. I know that it must have been frustrating to watch all your money get used up on me and Roxas, but I hope you know that I really did appreciate everything that you did for us. For the first time in my life, I got to feel normal. You were the one who made that possible for me.”

A strange, horrific, foreign feeling rose like smoke within the pit of his stomach. Rising nausea combined with sickening embarrassment, though Saïx wasn’t certain whether he was more embarrassed for it or for himself. Saïx wasn’t anybody’s father. He didn’t have the compassion and the selflessness necessary to shoulder a responsibility as heavy and as precious as that.

He pitied any child unfortunate, desperate, and wretched enough to call him a father.

“Why are you speaking in the past tense?” he asked. “All things considered, I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“You still have your inertia. But what happens after that?” Xion asked, granting sound and form to the words he’d been too afraid to voice aloud, himself. “How much longer will you stay?”

“You seem to presume that I’ve already chosen Xemnas.”

“Haven’t you? Or maybe it’s just a gut feeling I’m getting. I guess I don’t really know for sure,” Xion shrugged. Despite its casual body language, however, Saïx could hear the sorrow in its voice, subtly pleading for him to stay. “But you know, Isa, if you really have already chosen Xemnas, and you’re just waiting for permission or forgiveness so that you can leave without any regrets, then… I want you to know that you have it. At least from me. I know that my opinion isn’t the one that matters to you, but I still want you to hear it. It’s okay if you choose Xemnas. Really, it is. You can go with him and live a good, happy life. You can leave us behind to do it. You have my permission, and you know I forgive you – even though I never really blamed you in the first place. I hope you don’t misunderstand me and think that any of this is easy for me to say. I’ll be sad to lose you, and I’m sure that Roxas will be, too. Oh, and especially Axel. But being a family with you was really just a dream, after all, wasn’t it? Maybe it’s time for all of us to wake up.”

Permission and forgiveness. Perhaps those were the keys to his fetters, after all. If Lea forgave him and let him go, would he gain the courage to leave? Did he even _want_ to leave? There was a fragile, timid, selfish little piece of Saïx’s heart that wished that Lea would stand up and fight for him. 

“The house and the car are both registered under my name,” Saïx reasoned out, more for his own benefit than for Xion’s. Trying to find a multitude of reasons for him to reconsider. “If I choose to follow Xemnas, then the three of you will be left with nothing.”

Xion only nodded, bold and confident. “I know. But we don’t really have any right to use that stuff or live in this house, anyway. Like you said, it was yours from the start. We were just borrowing it from you.”

“You will be forced to uproot your lives and begin again before your high school graduation.”

“Roxas and I are lucky. We have each other, and Axel will have us, too. Together, I’m sure that the three of us will manage. And, at least for me… I’ll be feeling a lot better knowing that I can stop worrying about you when I know that you’re happy. …He _does_ make you happy. Doesn’t he?” Xion asked, as though it doubted Xemnas’s sincerity.

“…He does,” Saïx replied.

“Do you love him? And I mean really, _really_ love him? Butterflies in your stomach and everything?”

“I love him. I’ve loved Xemnas ever since I was a Nobody, and I love him still. I’ve loved him for years.”

It was the first time that he’d ever uttered those forbidden words within the confines of his property. It was so incredibly freeing that Saïx could feel his tendons unfurl from the mere thought of it. 

“Well, then, I guess that’s that,” it replied with a beaming, smile. Sunlight glimmered off of the tears pooling in the corners of its eyes. “That’s more than enough to convince me. You’ll be happy, and you’ll be loved. But be careful, okay Isa?” it asked of him. That time, when Xion reached for his arm, it clung on tight and didn’t let go. Pressing its body up against his, it laid its cheek against his shoulder and shivered as it cried. “No matter how smart he is or how charming he sounds, always remember that you’re just as good as he is. He’s not your Superior. Xemnas isn’t better than you. Especially not to me. …I’m sorry,” Xion whimpered, pulling away just long enough to wipe away at its tears. “I know it’s selfish, but… even after all of that, even after trying so hard to be brave, I just… I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to let you go!”

Sniveling, Xion wrapped his arm around its trembling shoulders and clung to his coat, nuzzling up against his chest.

Pulled down by the weight of gravity, Saïx felt the crushing force of his own inertia and sat still, watching in silence as the sun began its slow descent across the sky. 

________________________

Perhaps Ienzo was right, and his pain had been psychosomatic, after all. Saïx hardly needed his cane, anymore. His body felt light. It did ever since he’d seen Xemnas, standing outside his doorstep in the rain. Regardless of his newfound strength, however, Saïx still refused to scale the winding steps of the clock tower. Instead, he leaned against the wall of the elevator and watched, through clear, glass window panels, as he rose high above the city, lifting him up from their mundane world towards what seemed like another realm of existence, entirely.

He stepped around the corner and caught a glimpse of familiar, red hair. At the very first sound of his footsteps, Lea turned to greet him with a warm, beaming smile that melded against the beauty of the sunset.

“Hey, Isa,” he called, his voice, blooming with fondness, as he held out a bar of sea salt ice cream that he’d been saving, just for him. “Thanks for coming.”

With a mumbled word of gratitude, he plucked the bar from between Lea’s fingers and slid down beside him, kicking his legs over the edge of the clock tower. As though he knew that it would be for the very last time, Lea inched nearer, closing the gap between them. He wrapped his arm around his waist and held him tight. 

“And thanks for calling me,” Lea continued. “This is going to sound kind of pathetic, but even though I wanted to, I was too scared to call you first. And believe me: I _really_ wanted to call you,” he reiterated with a charming smile, impossibly wide. His cheeks dimpled when he laughed. “I was just afraid that you’d see my number pop up and slam that decline button so hard you’d drive your finger through your phone. I really don’t know what I would’ve done, then, if my call got cut off so quick. Hell, everyone in the market would probably still be laughing at me: a grown man, crying like a baby. Snot running down my nose and everything.”

Oh, the imagery he painted. Lea was a frightful poet. His little snippets of inspiration burned just as brightly as Xemnas’s sonnets, the both of them, tucked safely away within the confines of Saïx’s memory. 

“Funny, isn’t it?” Saïx asked. “That is the very same reason why I had waited so long to contact you. I couldn’t bear the thought of rejection. Though I certainly wouldn’t have cried, if you’d refused to take my call.”

“You don’t think so?” Lea teased, mumbling, with his mouth full of ice cream. “But you love crying! Do you know how many times I’ve seen you cry over the years? It’s basically all you ever did when we were little. You’d trip and scrape your knee, or they’d run out of chocolate milk at school, and you’d just pull on my arm and start screaming like the world was coming to an end. Hell, I think that sometimes, you’d just cry because you felt like it.”

“I like to think that I’ve outgrown such flagrant sentimentality,” Saïx retorted, eager to defend his dignity. “I’m hardly a child any longer.” 

His changing preferences were evidence enough of that. His ice cream bar, untouched, melted over the edge of the clock tower. Sticky droplets fell onto the streets and the unfortunate people below him. 

“That’s not true. Not to me. You could be eighty years old, blind, deaf, and shriveled up like a raisin, but you’ll always be a kid to me, Isa. You’ll always be my best friend. You know, I’ve had a lot of fun getting to know Xion and Roxas but growing up with you was the best time of my life. Hands down. We had an awesome childhood.” 

“We did. Those were the very best years of my life,” Saïx echoed, looking up at his companion and seeing, for what seemed like the very first time, just a larger version of the boy he’d loved, all those years ago. “I was so fortunate to have met you when I did.”

“I was the lucky one,” Lea began, discarding his popsicle stick onto a growing pile by his side. “I had a lot of friends as a kid, but to be honest, none of them really meant anything to me. Not as much as you did, anyway. I would’ve given up a kidney for you, you know that? Hell… I still would.”

“I’ll call you when I need that liver transplant Ienzo’s been warning me about.”

Their combined laughter echoed through the summer air clear and crisp as clocktower bells. It was always so easy to laugh when it was just the two of them. Happiness came to him easily, after years of eluding his grasp. Just like that, and it was his. 

Lea was the one who gave it to him. 

If only their time together wasn’t so limited. Saïx couldn’t remember the last time that they’d actually gone out with one another, alone, without the children tagging along behind their shadows. 

“Say, Isa, have you ever thought about what life would have been like if we’d stayed together in high school?” Lea asked him suddenly, his smile, warm, and fond, and whimsical. “If I remember it right, we first found out about Ansem’s apprentices because you ran away from home after fighting with your stepmom. You ran into the forest, and sneaked into the lab, and… and that’s when you found _her_. Right?”

Saïx remembered that night as though it had happened only yesterday, and yet, unwilling to unearth such painful memories, he turned his face and kept his thoughts to himself. He’d only packed his bags and escaped from his house because he’d wanted to get away from it all. From his stepsiblings and his mother’s ghost – and from the soul-crushing ache of his failed relationship with Lea. 

From the knowledge that he wasn’t good enough to hold his interest.

If they hadn’t broken up, then perhaps he could have endured his little slice of hardship all with just a bit more dignity. If he’d simply stayed at home that fateful evening, or if he’d slept over at Lea’s house, then they never would have found her. If she hadn’t stepped onto their happy little stage, if they’d never met, then he and Lea would have never joined the Organization. 

“I’ve been thinking, lately,” Lea continued. “If we’d never met her, then we never would have had any reason for trying to get jobs in that lab. And if we never got in, then we never would have met Xehanort or Xemnas, for that matter. We never would have gotten roped up in the Organization or the Keyblade War. Can you even imagine that? How one little thing can change the future so much.” In fact, Saïx actually couldn’t. War and magic, fighting for their lives, seemed like nothing more than second nature, at that point. Any other option seemed so strange and out of place. “Our world would have been so small. Just the two of us, living together in Radiant Garden. Forever.”

Saïx didn’t move a single muscle. 

He didn’t blink; he held his breath. Lea, sitting by his side, didn’t notice the chill that ran through his bones. Opening up another package of ice cream, Lea bit into a bar and gave a gentle, pensive hum.

“Man, just think of everything we could’ve done with our lives. Only two more years, and we would’ve graduated – or you would’ve, anyway,” Lea added, with a self-depreciating chuckle. “School was always tough for me. I probably would’ve dropped out. Not that it really would’ve mattered. I would’ve been fine cheering you on from the sidelines, whooping and hollering the second they called your name onto that stage. …Maybe you would’ve had my last name, by that point. I know that’s what you’d always wanted: to get married straight out of high school,” he reminisced. “What do you think that wedding would’ve been like?”

“…No,” Saïx replied in a choked stutter, unable to maintain his eye contact. 

“No?”

“ _No_ , Lea, I’ve never thought about what my life could have been like if we’d never separated in high school,” Saïx snapped, releasing his pent-up frustration… and soaking in the sweet catharsis, afterwards. “I can’t go down that path.”

Pressed so close to him, Saïx could feel Lea’s deep breaths expanding in his ribs. He could feel the puff of air on the back of his neck. “Well… it’s not impossible. We can still have that wedding.” 

As a teenager, Saïx couldn’t imagine a scenario where he’d turn down a proposal from Lea, and yet there he was, living in it. 

“I mean, maybe not now,” Lea continued, cutting off that rush of intolerable anxiety. “But when we’re older. When Roxas and Xion have gone off to college, or work, and started their own lives, and it’s just the two of us, again.” 

Saïx didn’t say a single word. His throat, constricting, he stared out at the cityscape and tried to stop himself from breaking. Minutes passed, and Lea must have understood the significance of his choked silence. After that first, clumsy proposal, he didn’t ask again. 

Though, surely, he must have been disappointed, Lea didn’t pull away from him, even when Isa’s melting ice cream bar dripped onto the tip of his shoe. Smiling, Lea kicked the droplets away, his laughter, only growing in intensity as he watched Saïx drop the rest of his ice cream off the edge of the clock tower. 

It reminded Saïx of their more mischievous moments: making slingshots out of sticks and rubber bands. Shooting pebbles at the girls on the playground – and getting a well-deserved scolding from the principle for it. 

Lea laid his head on Saïx’s shoulder and closed his eyes. He smelled like cheap aftershave. Something with a pine tree on the bottle. Saïx had always complained about the smell, but Lea had insisted that it was his favorite: the very same brand that he’d used since the first day he’d grown facial hair. Just a single, red strand on the side of his chin that Saïx had flicked, then plucked out with violent speed, only because he thought it would have been _funny_. Lea always did inspire the worst of his irrationality. He’d hated that pine aftershave as a teenager, and he hated it, now, as a grown man. Even so, knowing they would never be so close again, Saïx closed his eyes, nuzzled his cheek into Lea’s hair, and tried to pinpoint the scent of that aftershave. 

He’d have to go buy a bottle, later.

“Hey Isa, can I ask you something?” 

“What is it, Lea?” he whispered, knowing that his voice would crack if he applied any more force to his vocal chords.

“…You’re breaking up with me, aren’t you?”

Though he’d prepared for every possible twist and turn of their conversation, addressing every possible deviance, when it came time for him to turn his written script into reality, Saïx’s throat went dry. He just couldn’t say the words. 

“I knew it the second I saw you in the driveway,” Lea continued. “You were holding his hand, and… you were beautiful. You know that? Don’t get me wrong, you looked like you’d gotten in a car accident. You were bleeding down your neck, and your hair was sticking out at all these weird angles. …But I haven’t seen you smile like that for twenty years. Really, it was beautiful.”

“Lea, don’t –”

“And that’s when I started thinking that… maybe you’d be better off with him, after all. Because I can’t make you smile like that. I can’t give you all the things he does. I just don’t have the money.”

“It’s not about the money,” Saïx insisted – oh, and the sorrow in the voice disgusted him. He knew that he hardly had the right to mourn the death of his relationship when he was the one who’d struck the killing blow. 

“That’s not the only problem. I don’t have the patience, or the empathy, or the tact either. I’ve said some really mean things to you since we’ve gotten back together. I know that I made you do things that you didn’t really want to do. I know I made you sacrifice yourself for Roxas and Xion. I just wanted us to be happy together, you know? But maybe that was never going to happen.”

“When do they graduate? Will it be just the two of us, then?” Saïx asked, knowing that, in the end, it didn’t truly matter. Even if the children had suddenly vanished, one day, it wouldn’t repair their damaged bridge. The fact of the matter remained that he had not been Lea’s priority when he’d needed the support. 

The potential for betrayal would always be there, waiting for the next iteration of Roxas to take the stage.

“Are you trying to find excuses to stay?” Lea teased with palpable solemnity, despite his smile. “You shouldn’t do things like that. Keep giving me reasons why you should choose to stay with me, and I don’t think I’ll be selfless enough to keep on telling you to go.”

“Do you _want_ me to leave?” Saïx asked, suddenly pulling away. 

“No. _Gods_ , no,” Lea explained. “I want to pick up right where we left off. I want to go home with you and learn to do better one day at a time. I… really do want to get married, someday. I want to cheer you on from the sidelines. I want to grow old with you and live out the rest of our lives as best as we can, despite everything that was stolen from us. What I really want is a simple, happy life with all of our friends, but most importantly, with you. I don’t want you to leave – but what I want to do here, Isa, is let you know that I won’t hold it against you if you do. I really did mean what I said back there: we’ll always be best friends. No matter what.”

It was just as Lea had said. When push came to shove, beneath all of his armor, Saïx really was a crybaby, after all. He couldn’t stop his tears from falling, even as he tried his best to hold them back, coughing into his fist to mask his shuddering breaths. 

Lea’s fingers brushed against his cheek, drying his tears. He didn’t know whether to pull away or to lean into his touch.

“Is that a promise?” Saïx asked.

“You know it.”

“…I’m sorry, Lea.” 

“Don’t be. Your friendship isn’t some silver medal. It’s… s-sorry –” In the work of a moment, his bubbly, joyful Lea came undone. His porcelain cracked and fractured, until his body crumbled apart from the inside out. His cheerful smile faltered as he clenched his teeth and tightened his jaw, choking back a low, broken sob that dashed broken glass against the beautiful, picturesque sunset. His entire body shuddered. 

As he reached for him, collapsing against his shoulder Saïx could feel the earthquakes wreaking havoc through his bones. He got the distinct sensation, then, that he was the only thing holding Lea together at that very moment. Cowed by the shame of his infidelity and his undeniable, lingering love for him, Saïx dug his fingers into Lea’s jacket and held him as he cried. 

“Don’t forget your gummi phone when you leave, okay?” Lea whimpered, stuttering and gasping for breath. “Stay in touch. And if you ever need anything – and I mean _anything_ – you just call me. You send me one message that something’s fishy, and I’ll come running. Promise me you’ll call if something happens.”

“Everything will be fine,” Saïx whispered, his tears intermingling with Lea’s as he pressed his cheek against his. “Despite his mistreatment of you and your allies, Xemnas is kind to me. …Everything will be fine.”

“Promise me.”

“…I promise.”

By the time they recollected themselves, the sun had already set, and the gentle stars glittered overhead, oblivious to their suffering, so insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Saïx looked up at the black, night sky and had the strangest feeling that it would all come crashing down if he shot so much as a single pebble at the moon and stars. 

Their lives and the world they lived in were all so fragile.

Picking themselves up, he and Lea began to depart for the evening. As Lea walked him slowly to the elevator, Saïx’s phone buzzed, featuring a long, winding message from Xemnas. Perfect grammar and spelling, purple prose and complements, every single time.

“Prince Charming, I presume?” Lea asked, all in good-natured fun. His eyes were dark red and swollen. If they were only twenty years younger, perhaps Saïx would have laughed. 

“He’s letting me know that dinner is ready.”

“You want me and the kids to get a hotel for the night? I don’t want to interrupt your… you know.”

What Saïx wanted was for the opportunity to share just one more dinner with Lea… though of course, he’d never say as much. 

“Charge the bill to my credit card. It’s the least that I can do.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” Lea insisted, shaking his head. “I’ll manage. I’ll tell the kids to meet me at the gas station.”

“Tell them to meet you at the bistro in the main square. It will be my treat. I insist.”

“Oh ho, look who’s Mr. Moneybags all of a sudden.”

Money wasn’t an issue for him, anymore, now that he’d once again fallen under Xemnas’s care. From pauper to prince, Saïx would soon move out of his humble little home and back into the pristine white walls of The World That Never Was. He was going to live in a castle for the rest of his life. His mother would have been screaming in excitement. Her son, marrying a veritable king – though Saïx knew that all she’d ever wanted for him was for him to be happy.

“Seriously, though, thanks,” Lea said, at last, as the elevator reached the top. “I’m sure Xion and Roxas’ll really love that. Gods know I will.”

“Of course.” 

The elevator doors slid open, and Saïx stepped inside. When he turned around to keep the door open, however, Saïx found that Lea was still lingering on the balcony, shifting his weight from one foot to another, as he looked at him with a gentle smile. 

“You aren’t coming?” Saïx asked.

“I think I’ll take the scenic route. I’ve, uh… I’ve got a lot to think about.”

“…I understand.” 

What he’d really wanted to do was apologize, though Saïx knew that it would have rude, at this point. After all, he wasn’t about to sacrifice himself to put Lea’s family back together. Not now.

“Hey,” Lea interjected, right before Saïx was going to release his hold on the door. “Remember to keep in touch,” he reiterated. “Think about us little people now and then, when you’re living it large. Oh, and quit drinking so much. I’d like to have a few more years alone with my liver before you come sniffing around for it.” 

“No promises.”

In the end, Lea had gifted him with one last smile, after all. He would miss that: the easy, casual humor. Though Saïx knew that he had a veritable walking book of complex, sardonic jokes awaiting him in his future, perfectly delightful in its own, morbid way. 

“Alright. I guess that’s that,” Lea said with a friendly little wave, as the elevator door slowly slid closed, taking Saïx farther and farther away from him. “See you, Isa.” 

“…See you, Lea.”


	14. Chapter 14

Contradicting their supposed closeness, it wasn’t until adulthood that his dearest Lea had ever seen him at anything less than perfect form and peak performance. From the very start, with his head held high, Saïx had molded himself into the model of diligence and dedication, a perfect extension of Xemnas’s will. It was the mask that he’d crafted, all as part of the image that he’d been so desperately trying to maintain within the Organization. In an effort to shield himself from the snakes and the vultures, Saïx had closed off his heart to become something greater than himself. Something immaculate and divine, unsullied, and therefore untouchable both by his association to Xemnas and by his very nature, alone. 

Time passed, however, and the mask became the man. And yet, perhaps unfairly, Saïx had still expected Lea to see past his outward perfection and recall the image of his flawed humanity, regardless, even when he, himself, had been struck blind to the truth long ago. 

He’d expected Lea to be better. He had to be. For one, short summer, after all, that boy had been his lover, and Saïx did not offer the gift of his trust and affection to others lightly. As his chosen partner, one in a million, Lea was supposed to have known him better than he even knew himself. Saïx had never imagined that Lea could ever see him sitting up on that pedestal and forget that he had been the boy who’d lived just across the street from him in Radiant Garden. Never had he believed that Lea could forget the fact that he, too, was only human – or that, at his lowest point, he had been the broken, empty shell of one.

And yet, on the first morning that they’d awoken in the same bed together, Saïx had been greeted with the sight of Lea, petulant and scowling, curled into the corner of their mattress and refusing to touch him, much less cast a simple glance his way. He’d grumbled and pouted, as though he’d felt cheated that his dear, pristine, little lover could transform into a veritable monster overnight, with dark circles beneath his eyes, with his hair, sticking out, and with a full layer of thick, scratchy stubble, all silver and cobalt, lining his jaw after a mere two days without meeting the end of a razor.

Perhaps it boded ill for their relationship that Lea’s very first words to him that morning had been a series of disparaging comments about how he’d never imagined that Saïx could ever be capable of growing facial hair in the first place – as though he were an eternally prepubescent boy that had never been exposed to testosterone. Lea’s tone of voice was practically scathing; it almost sounded like Saïx had offended him, somehow, just by taking off his crown and throwing down his scepter to reveal himself as the ordinary man that he actually was. 

Of course, in the face of such an unexpected, sudden rejection, and for something so vapid and insignificant, Saïx, shell-shocked, couldn’t piece together a single argument in his defense during the moment. Acknowledging that kind of childish response from Lea, after all, would have simply been too awkward at the time. 

After hours of uncomfortable silence, Lea had apologized during breakfast, and profusely, at that – but he had made him feel so gruesomely unattractive that morning, that Saïx simply couldn’t stop himself from setting his alarm clock an hour earlier ever since, just to ensure that he had enough time to shave and style his hair before Lea could awaken and see him at his worst. Saïx couldn’t allow that to happen, when Lea had made it clear that his true self just wasn’t good enough for him.

There had been a few lapses in Saïx’s diligence, certainly: the occasional, fleeting moments when he had simply been too tired to shower or too damned lazy to style his hair. Oh, but those moments had been nothing. Nothing compared to the cycles of crippling depression when he could just barely manage to navigate himself out of his maze of apathy and crushing sadness to drag his empty body out of bed in the mornings. During days like those, he’d never been able to trust himself with the use of his straight razor. He just couldn’t, when the temptation to slide it across his throat had always been so pervasive. 

He’d go to work with a beard on those mornings, though, even if his coworkers had found him just as monstrous as Lea had, nobody had ever dared to say a thing. Saïx had rationalized their silence as evidence that nobody cared about him. He was, after all, the sole financial analyst in a tower full of administrative assistants and front facing workers who widely regarded him as arrogant, unlikeable, and grossly overpaid. He’d worked alone in a dark office in the basement of the building, and nobody had ever learned his name. 

There hadn’t been a single morning during those dark, lonely years, where Saïx wouldn’t fantasize about quitting that job and setting himself free. The long hours and lack of appreciation were familiar monsters; what Saïx couldn’t tolerate was the loneliness. At the very least, in the Organization, all thirteen Nobodies had been, at one time or another, united in their goal and confident in their bonds amongst themselves. But in that house, living with Lea, in that office, working that horrible job, Saïx had felt like an imposter. A doppelgänger, living out the remnants of the life that Isa had left behind. Lea was supposed to have served as his shelter from the storm, but he was the one who’d punished him for his rebellion more harshly than anyone else. Lea never listened to him when he needed to vent; Saïx liked to quiz him with follow-up questions that he could never manage to answer, serving as proof that his mind wandered. Worst of all, Lea never touched him when he was anything less than perfect. His beard was too scratchy, he’d say, or he looked too much like Xehanort when he didn’t trim off his greys – of which there were more and more every day, considering the fact that Saïx wasn’t getting any younger. 

Saïx hadn’t realized how inadequate Lea had made him feel until he’d experienced the fortuitous return of Xemnas’s unconditional intimacy. 

Tucked away in the safety and the comfort of their own little world, Xemnas’s very first act every morning was to pull him in for a kiss, no matter how horrid Saïx looked at the time. Whether he’d grown out his beard, or whether he hadn’t. Even when his face was covered in drool and plastered to the pillow, it simply didn’t matter. Xemnas always cradled his cheek, and embraced him, and told him he was lovely. 

Even when he’d come down with a particularly persistent case of influenza, still, Saïx still got his kisses in the mornings. Xemnas didn’t mind the mess, nor did he fear infection. If he contracted the virus from Saïx, he didn’t mind falling ill, or so he’d claimed. It had been a completely ridiculous notion, and yet the self-sacrificial sentiment behind it was so sincere that Saïx couldn’t help but overlook the absurdity.

Xemnas almost never got sick, anyway. It occurred to him that, for the most part, none of them ever did, back when they served the Organization. Their bodies were stronger to compensate for the weakness in their absent hearts. Compared to what he was in the past, now, Saïx was just so… _fragile_.

His body was falling apart at the seams.

Weakened and jaundiced, Saïx shuddered in his deathbed, struggling to fight the infection in his abdominal cavity. Thick, putrid pus spread death and rot from his bloodstream all the way down to his internal organs. Despite Ienzo’s warnings, never in Saïx’s life had he ever believed that his body could shut down so quickly because of one simple, failing organ. There was no salvaging his liver, now. It was as good as gone, and with it collapsed the integrity of his pathetic, crumbling, human body as a whole. Portal hypertension and subsequent variceal hemorrhage: that was what Xemnas had called it. Saïx didn’t understand a single word. All he knew was that his cirrhotic liver was the reason why he was choking on his own blood. It trickled between his teeth and dripped down his chin, soaking into his pillowcase, stained brown with old blood, and yet when Xemnas woke up beside him that morning, instead of shuddering in revulsion, as he very well should have, he drew closer, cradling Saïx’s broken body against his own. Stroking his hand down his distended abdomen, he cooed at him and showered him with kisses. 

When he finally pulled away, Xemnas’s lips were painted bright red with Saïx’s septic blood.

“Good morning, Saïx,” he whispered as he hovered over him, smiling down from the heavens. “You must be exhausted. You hardly slept a wink last night. You were tossing and turning…” 

With the last of his strength, Saïx reached for him, his jaundiced fingers, pawing weakly at Xemnas’s bare chest. Even when Saïx had been too weak to do anything but lie there like a ragdoll, Xemnas had still undressed and fucked into his failing body, all the same. Praising him. Telling him how much he loved him. 

Repeating the words like a mantra. 

“Yes, Love?” he asked, lowering his head until soft, white hair pooled onto Saïx’s shoulders. “Is there something that you are trying to tell me?” 

“Xemnas...” he sobbed, if only from the pain. “Whatever treatments you’re giving me… aren’t working. I’m not getting any better. You have to… to call Ienzo, before I –”

“Hush, my dear. Save your strength. There is nothing that Ienzo can do for you, now, that I cannot. I have always been the boy’s Superior,” Xemnas retorted with a pleasant, airy chuckle, closing the miniscule distance between them to steal another kiss from rotting, pestilent lips. “Even when our human forms served Ansem the Wise, still, I outranked him. Never forget that I possess the knowledge of a doctor, as well. Ienzo does not know what is best for you nearly as much as I do.” 

Xehanort had been a _researcher_ , not a medical doctor. There was a big and highly significant difference. Even with one foot in the grave, however, Saïx knew that there was hardly any point in arguing with Xemnas. All that he could do was beg. 

“Xemnas, _please_.”

If his kidneys hadn’t failed alongside his liver, if he wasn’t so dehydrated, Saïx had no doubt that he’d be weeping from the terror and the excruciating agony. 

“Everything will be alright,” Xemnas hushed, as though soothing a whimpering child. Xemnas brushed his bangs out of his eyes and pressed a kiss against his sweaty brow, burning up with fever. He trailed them down, kissing his eyelids, his cheekbone, and even his stubbled jaw. At that point, however, Saïx was too sick to gain any comfort from their closeness. “My preparations are already complete. You may let go of your tether to this earthly realm whenever you’d like. Rest assured that I will catch you, as I always do.”

“What preparations? I don’t understand. Xemnas, I think that I’m –” 

_Gods, he was dying_.

Death, in and of itself, was no stranger; Saïx knew it well, though it had come to him, in the past, on swift wings, purposeful, pulling him under and snuffing out the little flame of his life before he could even truly comprehend what was happening to him. The pain of a fatal blow was always delayed, merciful only in its brevity.

At the very least, that was what Saïx had always believed.

Experience told him that death never came easily, and yet he’d never believed that it could ever be so gruesome. He’d died on the battlefield twice, but Saïx knew, now, that broken bones and missing teeth were nothing in comparison to peritonitis and liver failure. There was dignity in dying on the battlefield. 

Lying in his sickbed, surrounded by screeching morphine alarms and shuddering in his death throes, Saïx felt like a wounded animal. He knew, then, what it must have felt like to have been that little dog that he’d found on the roadside in Radiant Garden. Denied the mercy and the dignity of a quick death, all he could do was look up to his god and wonder why Xemnas wouldn’t snap his neck.

Saïx could practically feel his blood pressure dropping, made evident by the fatigue and the splintering headache, tearing through his skull. Ienzo had told him, once, that when his blood pressure dropped to lethal levels in Radiant Garden, he’d only managed to keep him alive on dopamine and norepinephrine. Vasopressors and antibiotics were what was needed to save his life – and yet the only medications that Xemnas had given him were opiates.

Falling into the abyss of death, Saïx could barely hear the sound of his voice. 

“We will purge that horrid body of its poison, now won’t we?” 

____________________________

He hadn’t heard from Isa in over four weeks, though that, in and of itself, was hardly any cause for concern. They fell out of touch every now and again. It was just the way things were, when they were both so busy with the new, exciting changes in their lives. Axel had graduation parties and birthdays to plan. Catering, cake, and music to coordinate; friends all coming together for a fun day on the beach with absolutely everyone invited.

He’d made Isa’s invitation extra special, tacking on glitter, and miniature streamers, and hand-written notes from both Xion and Roxas, letting him know how much they would appreciate his company during the hallmark celebration to honor their entry into adulthood: the high school graduation that had only been made possible because of Isa’s efforts in the first place. They’d both practiced their calligraphy for a week, just to make Isa’s invitation. Axel had thought that there was no way in hell that anyone could reject an invitation as wonderfully heartfelt as that – but, oh, Xemnas wanted to go on a trip to some private mountain hot spring during that week, and Isa never went anywhere without him, now. 

Of course, he shouldn’t have been surprised. 

Even after all the time that they had spent living together as a family, much to Axel’s dismay, Isa hadn’t bonded with the children at all. He didn’t feel anything towards them. Every time that Axel had tried to bring up Roxas’s goals or Xion’s accomplishments during one of their phone calls, suddenly, Isa was being called down to dinner, or he had to go to the bathroom, or Xemnas wanted to take him somewhere – _anywhere_.

Isa cared so little, in fact, that he hadn’t even bothered to mail back the RSVP rejecting Xion and Roxas’s invitation. Xemnas was the one who had messaged him back, and only through a text message on Isa’s gummi phone. The only reason that Axel was able to tell that it had been Xemnas behind the screen was because he had referred to Roxas as “No. XIII.” 

Xemnas knew the password to Isa’s gummi phone; he was messaging people under Isa’s name. That much had become clear to him, as of late. Xemnas was isolating him. He was certain of that. 

Axel had been concerned for a time, but according to Master Yen Sid, that kind of behavior wasn’t entirely abnormal. Plenty of married couples were practically joined at the hip, especially those without children and those as otherwise unsociable as Xemnas and Isa tended to be.

He still found it strange that anybody could throw away all of the friendships in their lives and bail on their responsibilities all because their spouse didn’t want to go with them, but Isa was his own man, and he could make his own decisions. In the end, if he would rather soak in a pool of water and pick stupid peaches than support the children who loved him and who considered him as a father, then perhaps there was nothing that Axel could do about it and nothing that he could ever say to change his mind. Even so, it hurt to realize how disposable all of them had been to him. 

A mere two weeks after their breakup, and Isa had celebrated the sale of his property by getting engaged. All the while, Axel had been scrambling to afford the rent for his new apartment, when the breakup had left him destitute. Selfless as ever, Xion sold her violin and quit the high school orchestra just to help make ends meet. He’d heard her crying in her room on the very first evening when she’d been forced to miss practice. Roxas sacrificed his social life to get a part time job; he hadn’t spoken to Hayner, Pence, and Olette in ages. It broke Axel’s heart to know that he didn’t have the ability to provide for those children like Isa could. He’d done everything within his power, going so far as to skip meals in order to lighten Xion and Roxas’s burden, and yet his sacrifices were never enough. Though he knew that Isa would have helped if only he’d informed him of just how desperate their situation had become, the fact remained that Axel didn’t want to accept Xemnas’s charity – and the money _would_ belong to Xemnas, considering the fact that Isa had quit his job the day after they’d gotten back together. Throwing away his independence, Isa relied on Xemnas for everything, now. 

Even a dog had its pride; Axel wasn’t about to beg for that monster’s table scraps. Especially not after the emotional devastation of that wedding, taking place only three months after he’d broken up with Isa. It wasn’t until he’d seen that ring on Isa’s finger that Axel realized how much he’d been clinging onto some last, dying traces of hope that they could still get back together after everything that had happened. He hadn’t been conscious of that fact until he’d felt the crushing hopelessness wash over him like a tidal wave, drowning him in the stark realization that there was no coming back from a wedding. 

Isa wasn’t a man who took commitments and contracts lightly. He wasn’t going to divorce Xemnas and return to his life in Twilight Town. Never. Not when he looked so happy in his photos and in their last, live video chat together, months ago, when he’d been showing off his moonstone wedding band. Axel didn’t quite understand the point of a wedding with no guests, no cake, and no reception, but he’d clenched his teeth and bit his tongue, regardless, forcing his lips up into a smile to offer Isa his very best wishes. 

If he had to be honest with himself, however, Axel wished, more than anything, that he could turn back the clock and crash land his gummi ship on Destiny Island and beg Isa to come back home with him – and if he had to beat Xemnas into a bloody pulp, right there at the altar, in the process, then so be it.

He should have done it. Perhaps then, they could be celebrating Xion and Roxas’s graduation as a proper family.

“No Isa today, either?” Xion asked with nearly contagious despondency, as she slinked down onto the side of the clocktower, right beside her two best friends. 

“You can probably stop messaging him,” Roxas said with a sigh. “I don’t think he’s ever going to answer.”

“We can’t just give up.” 

“Why not? He probably blocked both our numbers. Face it – he doesn’t care about us, anymore. Maybe he never did.”

Xion gripped onto the fabric of her skirt until her knuckles turned white. Crumbling from the strain of holding back her tears, her lowered lip quivered; her entire body shook like an earthquake. 

“Sorry,” Roxas said, taking her hand in his. “I shouldn’t have said that, when I know how much you miss him. The truth is that… I do, too. I guess I just… feel kind of betrayed. That’s all. Isa was our friend. _Ours_. But the second Xemnas came back, it was like we didn’t exist anymore. …You know, we never even finished building our car for the pinewood derby. Isa forgot all about that.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. There’s so many things we didn’t finish and so much that I still wanted to say. We never finished our chess game, either. The pieces are still sitting out in the living room.” Seeking comfort, Xion leaned against Roxas’s side and let him pull her into a bear hug. “Hey, Axel?” Xion asked, peeking over Roxas’s shoulder. “Isa is going to come to our graduation party, right? Did he get back to you yet?”

He hadn’t had the heart to give them the bad news. Even so, Axel knew that he had to come clean sooner or later, when graduation day was quickly approaching. 

“I, uh… haven’t really heard from him since his wedding, so I guess I don’t really know what he’s up to these days. But I’m sure he’ll come. He’s probably just busy doing married person things. With Xemnas.”

“He’s not coming, is he?” Roxas hissed, much to Axel’s surprise. Caught off guard, he shielded the screen of his gummi phone, fearing that Roxas had caught a glimpse of his last conversation with Isa. But instead of turning to look, the boy only sighed and opened up another bar of ice cream. “You don’t have to lie about it.”

“So, you figured it out, huh? …Sorry,” Axel relented, gently rubbing at the back of his neck, embarrassed by his pathetic attempts at secrecy. “I just didn’t want you guys to be disappointed.”

“Don’t you think we would have been even more disappointed if we thought he was coming, and he just didn’t show up?” Agitated, Roxas was swinging that little bar of ice cream so hard that Axel worried it would fall off the stick. “What’s Isa’s excuse this time?”

“I don’t know. Not really,” he admitted with an exasperated sigh. “I didn’t actually hear from Isa. Xemnas was the one who messaged me.”

“You have his number?” Xion gasped, though her surprise quickly simmered down into quiet confusion. “But wait, does Xemnas even have a gummi phone? I didn’t think that Chip and Dale ever gave him one.”

“He used Isa’s. They share a number, and a profile, and everything.” Despite his desire to shield Xion and Roxas from the dark, sordid details of Isa’s relationship, Axel couldn’t hide the disapproval and the suspicion in his tone. 

“But doesn’t that mean that Xemnas can read everything that Isa talks about?” Xion asked, always so clever.

“Probably,” Axel admitted with a resigned shrug. “I tried talking to him about it once, but he says it’s fine. And he can make his own decisions, you know? Anyway, I think that he secretly likes the attention,” he laughed, scrolling through his messages and trying to discern whether any of them could have actually been sent by Xemnas. “Isa joked once that he really likes it when Xemnas gets all jealous. He says he thinks it’s ‘cute.’”

“Well, I think it’s gross and creepy,” Roxas interjected.

“So do I,” Axel agreed, raising his ice cream bar, just for emphasis. “But what do I know, really? Whatever I did wasn’t working, obviously, since Isa dumped me like a sack of hot potatoes. Clearly, I don’t understand what’s considered romantic, nowadays.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Xion reassured him with a comforting pat on the shoulder. “I know that Isa still loves you. Maybe not the way that he loves Xemnas, but… Oh, I’m sorry! That was supposed to be a lot more comforting than I made it sound.”

Axel chuckled, shaking his head. “No, I appreciate what you were trying to do. And you don’t have to worry about me. I’m okay, guys. Really. It’s not that bad. To be honest, I’m starting to get over it. Now, more than anything, I’m just stuck wondering whether me and Isa really loved each other or… whether we only really loved what we used to be.”

“What does that mean?” Roxas asked.

“When we were kids, Isa was always getting in trouble with his parents for leaving food out for the strays and sneaking caterpillars into his house when it got too cold – and then they’d turn into moths and start flying around all over the place, which used to drive his mom insane.” The longer he spoke, the more Axel’s fond, nostalgic smile began to waver, slowly sinking down into a lingering feeling of pervasive emptiness. “That’s the Isa I loved: the one that couldn’t just walk away when an animal needed his help. He always had a soft spot for them, you know? I think it was because they couldn’t speak for themselves or stand up for themselves. I know this’ll probably sound insulting, but when I brought Isa into our old apartment, the reason why I thought he’d be able to get along with you two is because –”

“Because we’re strays?” Xion finished with a nostalgic smile of her very own. In response, all he could do was laugh, if only to keep himself from crying. 

“I was hoping that he’d love you two as much as he used to love the mean old dog that lived in the alley behind the school. It used to bark and growl at anyone that came near it, but not Isa. Never Isa. He always brought it food, and he’d pet it, even though its fur was falling off – or maybe _because_ it was falling off, and nobody else would ever touch it when it looked so gross. Not that you look gross or anything,” he chuckled. “What I’m trying to say is that Isa was always a bit aloof, but he could be kind and selfless. He always liked to root for the underdog. That’s the kind of person I fell in love with and who I thought would be a good addition to our family. But Isa, as he is now, is… I think that if they saw each other, now, Isa would rather put that old dog down than help give it a reason to live again. Now, Isa is the type of person who can’t be bothered to come out and support you kids for a single day, even when he has a husband who can literally teleport.”

His irritation, his sheer disappointment, must have seeped into his tone. Roxas averted his eye contact. Axel should have apologized, and yet, infuriated by the mere thought of Xemnas’s toxic influence, he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He couldn’t stop himself from gossiping.

“But you know, to be honest, I don’t think I’m the kind of person that Isa wants, either. I probably need too much me time. …Did you know that he and Xemnas never do anything without each other?”

They ate together, and bathed together, and always stayed in the same room as each other. When one man exited, the other followed. Never had Axel once held a phone call with Isa where he couldn’t hear, or see, or _sense_ Xemnas in the same room as him, eavesdropping on their conversation in surreptitious silence, if he wasn’t so brazen as to chime in, entirely. The world that they lived in was barren. There was no life in The World That Never Was. There was nothing except for the two of them: a world designed, meticulously made, for Xemnas and his lover, and no other man. An entire world for the two of them, and yet they couldn’t get enough of each other. 

“N-No,” Xion replied, likely out of nothing more than politeness. “But I’m not surprised that he doesn’t. I hope you’re not mad at him because of it,” she added, eager to come to Isa’s defense.

“I’m not,” Axel relented, letting out a deep, shuddering breath, as he slumped down, shielding his eyes and rubbing at his temples. “It’s… It’s not his fault. It’s not _anybody’s_ fault. We’re just… Maybe we just grew up. Maybe we grew up into different people that just can’t love each other the way that we used to.”

It should have been freeing to admit it, but instead, finally understanding the irreversibility of his loss, sitting still, Axel felt as though he were tumbling down the clocktower.

____________________________

Saïx had never placed much faith in the healing powers herbal medicine, just like he never believed in the pain-relieving properties of physical therapy, prayer circles, or paracetamol. He was an opium kind of man. He knew what he liked, and he knew just how to pester Xemnas in order to get it. 

Perhaps it spoke to their familiarity with one another, but for that reason, when Xemnas had recommended a visit to a medicinal hot spring, Saïx had actually had the gall to laugh before requesting a dose of his usual hydromorphone. The only reason that he’d agreed to go at all was to purposefully entangle himself in a somewhat reasonable excuse to miss Xion and Roxas’s graduation party. He could have lied, of course. In fact, he’d planned to, but Xemnas’s sudden vacation plans had provided him with the perfect opportunity to assuage himself of his own guilt.

Of course, there was hardly any need for that, in the end, however. Xemnas’s “treatment” had gifted him with the fortuitous return of mental clarity to silence his cacophony. Saïx hardly felt guilty about much of anything, anymore. The deafening howl between his ears had finally come to an end. His world was still, his mind, calm, as though all of the pointless, misfiring synapses that connected him to memories best left buried – embarrassments and old regrets – had been severed within the course of a single evening. 

For all intents and purposes, despite a bout of initial trauma, Saïx was perfectly content with the results of Xemnas’s unorthodox medical intervention. 

With a deep, grumbling groan, Saïx stretched out his aching limbs and leaned back against the rocks. As much as he would have liked to have pillowed his head on Xemnas’s sturdy shoulder, he wasn’t so rude as to touch him without permission, first. Not when they were both overheated and sweating like dogs. 

Saïx had been ready to climb out of that oven and return to their room ages ago, but when Xemnas looked so comfortable, with his golden eyes, closed, and with that little towel placed over his head, Saïx just couldn’t give him the order to get up and change. The thought had occurred to him, of course, that he could have left on his own, but that notion hadn’t lingered in his mind for any longer than a fleeting second. He wasn’t about to go anywhere without Xemnas. It just wasn’t done. 

After all, just what in the world was Saïx supposed to do with himself, alone, for all that time? 

Even if he returned to their bedroom, by all means, what then? He would have no other option but to sit there, in the dark, stewing in his own festering discontentment as he waited for Xemnas to come waltzing back through that door. He would much rather subject himself to sweltering heat than to endure the pain of loneliness yet again for even a single intolerable minute. Even in a worst-case scenario, it wouldn’t truly matter if he fainted from the heat. Surely, Xemnas would notice and pull him out of the water before he could drown – and if, by some morbid coincidence, he didn’t, then at the very least, Saïx would die doing what he loved: roasting in a hot tub and stealing furtive little glances at Xemnas’s body underneath the water. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t seen it all before, but they’d never simply sat beside each other, naked, without so much as a promise or an afterglow of sex. It was a different kind of intimacy, a new sensation, though not one that Saïx found particularly offensive, when Xemnas always did emphasize the importance of good appearances. 

“Is the heat beginning to bother you, Love?” Xemnas asked, sliding his thumb over his hip beneath the water. “Would you like to gather our belongings and leave?”

“I wouldn’t mind if we left, but I don’t want you to cut your visit short because of me,” Saïx replied. Though he’d been tempted to lie and claim that he was fine, he knew full well, by then, that Xemnas’s near omniscience could pierce through any illusion he attempted to construct. There was hardly any point in trying to deceive him. “Relax and enjoy yourself. Gods know you deserve it, when you work as hard as you do.”

Or did he?

In reality, Saïx didn’t even know what it was that Xemnas did for a living. He’d asked, once or twice, how he funded their extravagant lifestyle, but Xemnas only ever smiled back at him, empty and expressionless. Saïx suspected that whatever he was doing was highly illegal, if not outright violent, but when their lifestyle was so wonderfully, perfectly hedonistic, when they could speed down foreign highways and crash their cars, when they could stand and watch the flames flicker up, spiraling into the night sky, with the knowledge that money was hardly a concern any longer and everything was replaceable, Saïx couldn’t find a single reason to complain or to call Xemnas’s methods into question.

Ignorance was bliss, and acceptance, divine. The ends justified the means, and there was no greater end than his own satisfaction. 

Xemnas shot him a calm smile, clearly pleased by his answer.

“Would you care for a drink?” Xemnas asked, revealing a small, ornate drinking gourd that he’d hidden within the folds of one of his towels. The moment he popped open that cork, even from a distance, Saïx could smell the stinging fumes of cool rice wine. “Perhaps this chilled liquor will lower your temperature.”

“I thought that food and beverages were banned within the premises.”

At that little revelation, Xemnas’s eyebrows rose just a fraction of a millimeter before falling back down into their soothing, neutral calm, his eyes, half lidded. 

“What of it?” Smiling, he swirled the liquor in its bottle, offering it to him. “The rules of this world, and indeed, those of all lesser worlds, apply only to their natural residents. As superior beings, you and I stand far above their petty cultural norms, do we not?” 

“The residents of this world would surely disagree.”

“Ah, but when the two of us possess power that outweighs their collective military strength, they have little ability to impose their will upon us. In this world, we are as gods, my dear. It is due only to our gentlemanly nature that we do not abuse that power. When we could very well subdue the local populace and deem ourselves kings, sneaking a simple gourd of sake into an onsen is positively forgivable. Would you not agree?” 

“…You’re terrible,” Saïx scolded with a bout of gentle laughter that he simply couldn’t repress. Thoroughly convinced, he took the bottle with a sigh, reveling in his own shamelessness.

“I do not deny it. I have always stood proudly on the side of darkness. Malice and cruelty are simply within my nature.”

And it was within his, too, now – in more ways than one.

Looking down at his reflection in the steaming waters, Saïx saw an old, familiar face staring back at him: a silent predator with pointed ears and golden eyes, sharp and metallic. His appearance belied his true nature, and Saïx felt at peace with himself for the first time in ages. Content in the knowledge that his doppelgänger, the green-eyed wolf in sheep’s clothing, was long gone and buried, Saïx could finally live honestly as who he was and nothing less. Drawing strength from the moon’s power, Saïx could feel the magic flowing through him with the wax and wane of the moon’s cycles. He’d grown stronger with the return of his true body, the one that stood far beyond the festering touch of natural illness and simple, human mortality. 

With a Nobody’s power, he’d healed quickly, even from an infection that would have killed an ordinary man. He hadn’t contacted Ienzo to confirm the restored functionality of his liver, but Xemnas had reassured him that all of his bloodwork was within normal limits. With no reason to distrust him, Saïx took his words at face value and moved on with his life. If there was something wrong, after all, he trusted Xemnas to take care of him. 

He’d already saved him once.

“…And yet, even at our lowest points, you’ve never shown me anything but kindness.”

“It is a small, flickering light in the endless shadow that I reserve only for you,” Xemnas admitted, with something that could have almost been mistaken for embarrassment. “It is a kindness well deserved, when you were the one who taught me its value, first.”

“Was I?”

“It is somewhat difficult to explain,” Xemnas hummed, as he reached for the drinking gourd to take a few, slow sips. “I am… a corpse: a reanimated body and nothing more. With no true history, I have nothing on which to base or to solidify the beginnings of my own, unique identity. I am neither a continuation of Terra nor Xehanort, and yet neither am I a complete being on my own. I am a derivation of others. I have no memories. No heart. Their absence never bothered me in the past; I never once felt inadequate. But being with you instills within me an unexplained sense of… significance. An awakening towards a higher plane of existence: the realization that I had been worthy of independent existence from the very start. You make me feel like an individual. Like my very own man. That, in and of itself, is the greatest kindness that you could have ever gifted to me.”

It didn’t matter how sweaty they were. Ignoring the heat, Saïx nuzzled up against Xemnas’s side, only to feel his lover’s arm snake around his waist, pulling him nearer, still. Dizzy from the heat and the gentle caress of cool rice wine, Saïx allowed his consciousness to wane, his candles, blowing out one by one. Closing his eyes, he tucked himself against the crook of Xemnas’s arm and drifted away. From somewhere far in the distance, he heard the gentle ringing of his gummi phone – once, then twice, then again, sometime later. 

“It must be Number VIII,” Xemnas whispered, as he toyed with the ornaments in Saïx’s hair, pinned back and elegantly styled. “Would you like me to fetch your phone, Love? Would you like for me to relay another message on your behalf?”

“No.” He didn’t want Xemnas to go anywhere. “Ignore it. It’s likely nothing more than another desperate attempt to strongarm me into attending that graduation party.”

“It isn’t too late to go,” Xemnas offered, extending a rare compromise. “We can open a dark corridor, offer our best wishes, and be back within the work of a moment.”

“I suppose that we could,” Saïx said, all without making so much as a single movement. After the minutes passed them by in continued, lingering silence, Saïx hoped that he’d made it perfectly clear that he had no intention of going anywhere. 

“Whatever is the matter, Love?” Xemnas asked, teasing. “Have you no desire to commune with the forces of light? To throw plastic disks and feign interest in meaningless conversation about the weather?”

“To mingle amongst the people who took pleasure in humiliating me?” he answered. “No, I can’t very well say that I do.” 

“You fought as best as you could,” Xemnas reassured him, tracing gentle touches down his spine and stroking his back. “You were outnumbered, your combat partner betrayed you, and you did not ask for my aid when I arrived and offered you plenty of opportunity to do so.”

“I didn’t want to rely on your strength to defeat Lea. It was something that I had to do for myself.”

“And yet he passed the baton to Sora and the others.”

Saïx scoffed, pressing his cheek against Xemnas’s chest, if only so that he wouldn’t have to look him in the eye and stew in the shame and dishonor of his defeat. “It was nothing less than I deserved, for being so foolish as to believe that Lea would ever face me in a fair and equal trial. Perhaps he would have done so when we were children, but now…”

“…Now?” Xemnas asked, pressing him for more. 

“He doesn’t have the honor. Or perhaps he never did, and I was so enamored with him that I simply couldn’t see it.” 

Xemnas almost flinched at that word – _enamored_. His little white brows furrowed into a nearly imperceptible arch. 

“Did you love him?” he asked, finally. 

In truth, that was the first time that Saïx had thought of Lea in ages. Slowly, he pieced together the little parts of Lea’s identity. His bright, green eyes and vivid hair, his smile, warm and bright. 

“I did,” he answered honestly, without a single trace of malice or regret. “But as time passed, and we continued to live together in that house, the more I began to realize that while I loved him dearly… I no longer loved anything _about_ him. After all those years of distance, we were strangers, relearning who we were and what we meant to each other. By all means, I loved him. I loved everything that he represented –” The memories of better days, of a life well lived, in its joy and its simplicity. Sitting together in the back of a dilapidated car, as golden sunlight tricked through the ivy in the broken windows. Cracking open a beer and sharing it between the two of them. “But I am so different from the boy that I used to be. Perhaps I’ve outgrown him. …I don’t know.”

He didn’t really want to think about it.

“There is hardly anything wrong with growing older,” Xemnas reassured him, with his hand, drifting from his hip to his thigh. “Though I hope you never outgrow _me_.”

Caught off guard by that little confession, Saïx couldn’t silence his quick, sincere laugh. 

“I doubt that. I have yet to defeat you in a simple game of chess. I’ve lost every duel we’ve ever held against each other.” His voice softened, then, and as he looked into Xemnas’s warm, yellow eyes, he felt a wave of contentment washing over him alongside the heat from the medicinal onsen. “You are my Superior; it isn’t within the nature of our relationship for me to ever surpass or outgrow you.” 

____________________________

Monthly video chats and gift exchanges had turned into written cards on the holidays, and then to biannual birthday phone calls, and then to simple text messages, until even those had come to a grueling stop. It wasn’t as though their lives had suddenly become busier as much as it was that Isa was no longer a priority in his life – and he clearly wasn’t a priority in Isa’s. Axel didn’t blame him. 

They never saw each other in person, and there was only so much that they could say to each other over the gummi phones. Their social circles had changed. Axel had grown closer to Kairi and Ventus, whereas Isa hardly knew who they were. And as always, Isa had his Xemnas, who was, for all intents and purposes, his entire world. Over the years, they simply fell outside the scope of each other’s inside jokes. They wanted to talk about different things and different places. 

Different people. 

While they always made promises to visit each other, they never settled on a date or destination. Talking in vague terms, never hashing out the details, made it easier to pretend that they weren’t growing even further apart than they already had. 

It had been months since he’d even thought about Isa. 

What spurred on Axel current train of thought was only the fact that he’d seen Isa’s outdate profile on his gummi phone while updating his contacts list. Their last message to each other had been sent over a year ago.

_We should meet up, sometime!_

That was what Axel had said, but as usual, Isa let him know that he’d had to ask Xemnas first, and then, as was even more typical, he just never got back to him. Closing his eyes, Axel sat back in his sofa and sipped at his soda, losing himself in the memories until the sound of gentle footsteps roused him from his reverie.

“Good morning, Axel,” Xion greeted, taking a seat beside him. 

“Hey! You’re up early,” he replied. “It’s summer vacation. You sure don’t want to sleep in? Go on. Enjoy yourself for once before you have to head back to the old grind.”

“I can’t. I’ve gotten so used to waking up early for chemistry lab that I’m up by sunrise every day.” 

“That’s what you get for taking morning classes.” 

At twenty-one years old, Xion had grown into a capable, driven young woman with her entire life ahead of her. Though Roxas had practically begged her to join him as one of Yen Sid’s fulltime apprentices, Xion turned him down. She had her own path to walk, and soon enough, all of that hard work would pay off, and she would be walking down the stage for graduation. It was something that neither he nor Isa had ever done. As smart as Isa had been, robbed of his youth, he’d had never had the opportunity to graduate from high school, much less university. 

Silently, Axel couldn’t help but smile, lost in the whimsical wonder of just what his old, former friend would have thought of that. Would he have been proud of Xion’s accomplishments? After all, her diploma would feature his last name, right there for everyone to see, both on the degree itself and on the commencement packets. Whether Isa knew it or not, he’d passed both his persistence and his ambition on to the next generation. His legacy lived on. Even after all those years, even when they never spoke anymore, Xion still considered him a father. 

A cynical smirk tugged at Axel’s lips as he considered the fact that maybe Isa wouldn’t have cared in the slightest – until he realized that, by then, Isa was three years older, too. After all that time had passed, perhaps he, too, had changed. Axel didn’t know him well enough to make any judgments, at that point. 

“Who’re you texting?” Xion asked, as Axel continued scrolling through his messages.

“No one, really. I was just reading through my old messages with Isa. I haven’t talked to him in over a year. Did you know that?”

“Are you worried about him?”

“No, not really,” Axel admitted with a reluctant smile – one that grew in its confidence the more he spoke. “I’m sure he’s fine. He’s a Nobody again, remember? It doesn’t get much stronger than that. Besides, it’s not like he’s out fighting Heartless with Roxas. The only thing he’s fighting now is champagne hangovers.”

“Do you think he’s happy?”

“I think so, yeah,” Axel answered with honesty that surprised even himself. He thought back to the last time they’d spoken. Seeing the color in Isa’s face, hearing the life in his voice.

He didn’t know what spurred it on, whether it was Xion’s presence or the mere act of reminiscing about the past that brought on his bravado, but, with renewed energy, Axel typed up a quick greeting and sent it Isa’s way. With his heart racing, holding his breath, Axel waited five seconds, and then fifteen – all for nothing. All that buildup, and the message had failed to send. 

“That’s weird,” he mumbled, giving it another try, only to receive the same response. “It won’t go through.”

“He probably turned off his gummi phone.”

As though he’d been struck by the full force of reality, Axel’s tendons unwound and his muscles went slack, dropping the gummi phone onto his lap. He glanced back at Xion, stunned to silence. It occurred to him, then, that he was likely Isa’s only contact on that phone. If Isa wasn’t using it to message him, then… what purpose did it serve? Why would he even bother charging it? 

A flash of guilt jolted through him, and he averted eye contact, until he realized that there was absolutely nothing that was stopping Isa from messaging him first. They’d both set fire to the old bridge between them. Perhaps was both Isa’s fault and his – or, perhaps more accurately, it was absolutely nobody’s fault at all. Perhaps some people, even childhood friends, just weren’t meant to remain close forever. People drifted apart. It happened.

“Yeah, probably,” he shrugged, feigning nonchalance, as he stood from the sofa and stretched his weary arms. “Hey, Xion, you want to go out and get breakfast today? There’s a new pancake place by the candy shop Olette used to go to.”

Just speaking her name aloud brought back fond, old memories. Olette was engaged, now, to a man she’d met in university, but even that had only been information that he’d picked up from Xion, who was the only one out of their friend group who’d managed to keep in contact with her over the years. Even Pence hadn’t spoken to her in ages, when they went to different schools – and without Olette to hold their terrible trio together, Pence had realized that he and Hayner really weren’t that close to begin with. The two of them had only really hung out together because of her.

Everyone was growing up and going their own way. Despite the sadness that permeated his heart, Axel knew that there was simply nothing wrong with that.

“Sure, it’ll be my treat, okay?” Xion replied, snapping him back to reality.

“Look who’s Miss Moneybags all of a sudden,” Axel quipped, feeling the pull of nostalgia from his final conversation with Isa. Way back then, sitting together on the clock tower, Axel had never once imagined that he’d never see Isa ever again, after that. 

He would have held him just a little bit longer if only he’d known. 

“It’s just pancakes. I think I can afford those!” Xion said, rolling her eyes. “Let me just go grab my purse.”

“Remember to bring a jacket!” Axel called, falling back down onto the sofa. “It’s colder than you think.” 

“Yes, _Dad_.”

“You little –”

Laughing, he chucked a pillow her way, though Xion dodged it with expert precision, her smile, beaming bright, as she turned the corner and ran back into the guest room to grab her things. 

Left once more to the silent calm of his own thoughts, Axel glanced down at his gummi phone and reread Isa’s earliest messages to him. Back in those days, they could craft towering walls of text, so eager to tell each other about new, exciting prospects in their lives. Axel’s chest tightened. Much to his surprise, it physically wounded him to see the morbid transformation from long, winding stories to simple, brief answers and empty promises, made in social obligation, that neither of them truly intended to keep. 

For the first time in months, Axel truly wondered just how Isa was doing: whether there were new Nobodies walking the castle halls – or perhaps even adopted children. More likely, there would be dogs, if Xemnas would be willing to tolerate the noise and the mess, though Axel didn’t suspect that he would. 

He wondered what Isa looked like: whether he’d cut his hair or grown it out even longer, whether it was still mostly blue or whether it was white. He wondered if he would have smiled if he’d seen him. If, by some fortuitous twist of fate, they met in passing on the tram, would they have the strength to look at each other and smile? Or would Axel simply stare down at his phone while Isa made small talk with Xemnas, the both of them, pretending that the other simply didn’t exist?

Axel hoped that wouldn’t be the case.

Overcome by a flooding wave of both sorrow and nostalgia, he swiped left over Isa’s name, his finger, hovering over the delete key. 

At the very last moment, however, he thought of him. Isa, six years old, his hands, coated with finger paint and with a smile full of missing teeth. Isa at sixteen, kissing him in the back of a broken-down car during their very last summer vacation. Isa at twenty-six, beautiful in his coldness. 

Lost in thought, for just a brief moment, Axel walked the treacherous path of remembering what they were and pondering what they could have been and felt the renewed warmth of affection spark within him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with beautiful art from Chowder!
> 
> https://twitter.com/hallowthysea/status/1123039256744812549?s=21


	15. Chapter 15

When they were boys, Lea liked to take his hand and lead him into the abandoned chapel, running dizzying circles up spiral staircases to reach the very tallest spire. The door was always locked. It had been for decades, and yet the wooden walls of that church had splintered away from water rot, giving them access to the attic and the crumbling balcony, regardless, all from a little hole in the corner of the room.

On cold, winter nights, they would squeeze through that hole, and Lea would lay out a blanket on the floor. Saïx could still remember the smell of rotting wood, the warmth of Lea’s blankets, as the two of them lay supine, looking up at the stars and the snowfall through the crumbling roof. By candlelight, they played charades up in that attic, their shadows, dancing upon the old church walls. He could still recall the sound of Lea’s laughter, the innocence, the creaking of the floorboards, as he did handstands and cartwheels on the balcony, daring the nails to give way and send them tumbling down to their deaths. At that age, they were invincible, and time was endless. 

_Childhood_ had seemed endless. He still remembered the fear of hiding in the bushes and watching middle schoolers loiter by the gas station, blocking his access to the ice cream cooler. Trembling in his little velcro shoes, he’d been so afraid to approach them. But what truly filled him with dread was not the fact that they were so much bigger than him but the realization that he had years to go before he ever reached that age. He was never going to be a big kid, much less a grown up. It was going to be an eternity before he turned thirteen, or twenty-three, or thirty. 

Only when looking back did Saïx realize just how little time he’d had – and how very little time he’d had with Lea. To laugh, to learn, and to grow with him. To find themselves and to come to understand each other. He hadn’t realized that time was counting down from the very moment he’d met him. Sixteen years of standing in the sun, together, and that was it. 

Sixteen years. 

Saïx was over twice that age, now, and with every passing moment, he knew that he grew older, still. As old as he felt, he would never again be as young as he was, day to day. He could cling to the past all he liked. Life would move on, regardless. Whether he went with the flow or exhausted himself by struggling fruitlessly against the tide, he would end up in the very same place, all the same. The only thing that could ever change was the journey. And his own mindset at the end of it. But if that were true, then the best that Saïx could ever hope for was to focus on the present and live his life to the fullest the way that it was. Though, all things considered, Saïx had no reason to complain. 

He had been blessed with a truly wonderful life.

Echoing hymns flooded through the remodeled chapel, rushing up polished, marble staircases to reach the very tallest spire. They flowed like lifeblood, restoring vitality to the broken church from his childhood. Standing spellbound in the attic, Saïx looked up at the ornate ceiling, at the smiling visages of the gods, painted in mosaic. They smiled down at him, calm and serene, and Saïx wondered what they truly must have thought of him, then. Their favorite plaything, their pincushion, had finally come to peace with himself. There had been a time in his life when Saïx was certain that the gods were mocking him. Setting him up for failure, laughing as he slipped and stumbled. It was absurd, after all, to think that any man could ever be as unfortunate as he was through nothing more than chance alone. How little he must have meant, in their grand scheme of things. Determined to convince him of his own insignificance, the gods had turned his life into a karmic joke. They’d been doing so for years.

…But they hadn’t accounted for Xemnas.

His was an unnatural life that was never meant to come into creation. One that existed beyond the reach of the wheel of fortune. Free from fate and karma, he was just the same as them. 

A god. 

A god who had saved him time and again, who had risen from the grave for no other purpose than to come to his rescue all over again. If that, in and of itself, was not divine, then Saïx didn’t know the meaning of the word. His Xemnas was a god. Perhaps he wasn’t good – but he was always good to _him_. 

Turning his gaze away from the mosaic, Saïx stepped out onto the balcony to join Xemnas, waiting for him right beside the door. Saïx hadn’t set one foot outside before Xemnas’s umbrella opened up above him, shielding him from the evening snowfall. It was a kind gesture. He’d endured far worse over the year than a bit of snow on his shoulders, but Saïx appreciated the sentiment, all the same. Taking Xemnas’s arm, he allowed his lover to lead him closer to the balustrade overlooking the city and the starry night sky.

“You told me, once, in passing, that you often enjoyed visiting this church in your youth,” Xemnas said, as Saïx leaned over the polished, stone railing. “I had always presumed that it was the architecture which interested you, but, upon standing in the splendor of the hymns, I cannot help but wonder – was it the supposed holiness of this place that drew you through its doors? Do you believe in the gods?”

“No,” Saïx answered honestly. He only ever believed in them ironically, when he needed somebody to blame other than himself. He knew that wasn’t faith. It wasn’t even close. “Even if the legends hold true, and we were granted life by something far greater than humanity, any creator that could sit idly by as its own children struggled the way that we do is hardly worth my reverence. Though, by similar logic, if just gods truly existed, then you and I would have burst into flames the moment we crossed the threshold into this chapel.” Struck by morbid amusement, Saïx couldn’t help but chuckle, low and quiet. “Look at us, tempting the fates. The audacity of it.”

Xemnas’s smile glimmered back at him, beautiful and bright. 

“We never had any cause for concern,” Xemnas said. “If the gods of this world truly exist, I am not entirely convinced that they would scorn us.”

“Oh? How surprisingly optimistic.”

“Am I? Two forsaken, pitiful abominations, with neither hearts nor souls of their own, were able, against all odds, to find companionship and significance in one another. Surely, any creator worthy of the title of godhood would recognize the divinity in that.”

Saïx blinked back at him, silent, starstruck by his eloquence. Oh, the things that he could say.

Xemnas’s poetry whispered to his spirit louder than any hymn ever could. Pondering the virtues of nonexistent gods, Saïx folded his arms over the balustrade and looked out over the cityscape, losing himself amidst the hundreds of tiny lights, flickering in the darkness. 

Saïx hadn’t noticed that Xemnas lowered his umbrella. Not until he heard the gentle rustle of fabric coming from beside him. He turned, then, just in time to watch as Xemnas slipped off his woolen pea coat to drape it over his shoulders, instead. 

“I wasn’t particularly cold,” Saïx chuckled, though he slid his arms into the sleeves, regardless. He must have looked ridiculous – like a child in a grown man’s clothing. The thick, black fabric swallowed him up. Xemnas’s sleeves, still warm from his body heat, engulfing his hands past his fingertips. 

“You are a poor liar,” Xemnas teased, as he buttoned up the coat and rearranged his hair. Cupping Saïx’s cheek, he stroked his thumb along the edge of his jaw, brushing away the snowflakes. “I can feel you shivering.”

“And what about you?” he asked, gesturing towards Xemnas’s arms, half-bare and covered in quickly rising goosebumps. “You must be freezing.”

“I am. But it is my role, as your Superior, to endure the brunt of our shared discomfort.”

With a smile as serene as that of the gods, Xemnas opened his umbrella once more to shield him from the wind and the snow.

“You’re insufferable,” Saïx sighed, though the corners of his lips pulled into a grateful smile regardless. Tucking himself into the crook of Xemnas’s arm, he pressed his cheek against his shoulder and watched as time passed them by. 

Standing on the balcony of a grand cathedral, watching the gentle snowfall on a calm, winter night with his lover, Saïx didn’t need to feel young again in order to be content at his age. Xemnas was right from the very beginning. All that he had ever needed to do was to enjoy the present, just as it was. To take a step back and allow the world to turn at its own pace.

Echoing church bells and closing hymns signified an end to the evening prayers. The evening was well upon them, then.

“It seems that I’ve lost track of time. I fear that we are going to be late for our dinner reservation,” Xemnas lamented, as he glanced down at his antique watch, inlaid with onyx and gold. Even after all those years, Xemnas refused to switch to an electronic model. Multipurpose watches that could speak to him in robotic voices and take his nonexistent pulse were, in his opinion, painfully bourgeois. And there was nothing worse in Xemnas’s world than the uninspired and conventional – except, perhaps, the rude.

“There’s hardly any need to rush. We could always aim to be fashionably late,” Saïx said, trying to assuage his lover’s concerns. Xemnas smiled back at him, his posture, softening.

“My dear, we are always fashionable.”

As if to prove a point, Xemnas collapsed his umbrella and scooped Saïx up into his arms with effortless fluidity. He leapt onto the top of the balustrade, and they towered over the city, high enough to reach the moon. 

“Xemnas… what are you doing?”

“What’s the matter, Love?” Xemnas’s fingers brushed against his forehead, pushing aside a few loose locks of hair. “Why do you sound so afraid?”

Gathering his courage, Saïx glanced over the barrier of Xemnas’s arm, down toward the paved, stone streets, below. His vision tunneled, and his stomach dropped. The childhood fear of falling struck him like a lightning bolt. 

For a moment, he didn’t say anything at all. He couldn’t. Not until Xemnas titled his head, looking down at him with quiet curiosity.

“…Saïx?”

“Years ago,” he began, his voice, trembling, “When I still came to this place with Lea, this balcony was made of nothing more than rotting wood, held together with cheap glue and rusted nails. As children, we thought ourselves immortal. We used to dare each other to lean on the crumbling railing as long as our courage would allow. We kept records, etched onto the wall of the chapel’s attic. Thirty seconds, thirty-five. I broke his record, one night, and as a joke, or perhaps out of childish frustration, Lea… pushed me. He pushed me, and the railing collapsed. It broke against my back as though it were made of nothing more than paper and sugar glass. I can still remember the weightlessness. The wind in my hair. If Lea hadn’t caught my hand and pulled me back up to safety, I would have died that day. My mother would have found my corpse splattered on the stone.”

When he closed his eyes, he could feel the fear all over again. That split-second moment of disbelief and panic when the wood splintered behind his back, and Saïx had realized, for the very first time, that death was not a monster that preyed on only “lesser” beings, his insects and goldfish. Even he could not escape his own mortality.

Little did he know that he would suffer the displeasure of dying more times than he could ever care to count. Saïx couldn’t help but smile to himself, his humor, as dark as ever. “It’s the ghost of a childhood phobia, I suppose,” he continued. “Even after all these years, my body still remembers the fear. Look.”

He lifted his hand, and his fingers trembled, only for Xemnas to take his hand in his, holding him tight.

“Do you believe that I would ever allow such a terrible fate to befall you? You have nothing to fear.” Though Saïx didn’t dare to look down, he could feel Xemnas’s movements, inching closer to the edge. Instinctively, his fingers tightened, his nails, digging into Xemnas’s shirt. “Do you trust me?” 

“Yes,” Saïx answered, singing that same old refrain. 

“Say it.”

He looked up at him, frozen.

“Say it.”

“…I trust you.” 

Smiling down at him like a mosaic god, Xemnas shifted his weight and dropped them both from the chapel tower. Together, they plummeted towards the stone, faster and faster, until the moment when it seemed as though gravity had reversed. Saïx looked over his shoulder and watched as even the snowflakes outpaced their descent. Lighter than air, their bodies drifted with the snow, falling gently towards the earth with the gentle push of the wind. 

As a little boy, Saïx had looked out his bedroom window and dreamed of flight, just as every child had, at the age when imaginations still ran wild. When he and Lea could tie blankets around their shoulders and call themselves superheroes. 

If only his childhood self could see him, then, living the dream – Saïx he wondered what Isa would have said to him, then. Would he have been amazed, enthralled, excited, to know that a veritable king was the partner who awaited him in his future? …Or would he have hated Xemnas for turning Saïx into a person who couldn’t be with Lea? Saïx suspected the latter. Oh, but when Isa grew older, surely, he would come to understand. Sometimes, people grew apart, and time had a funny way of turning people into everything they hated, or everything they thought that they would never become. 

Isa would understand.

Just as he would surely understand why, when Saïx had the opportunity to fly, to look out at the city and all of its people, he couldn’t focus his vision on anything but Xemnas. The beauty of Radiant Garden, of the full moon and the shimmering stars, paled in his comparison. 

They drifted down, lower and lower, until they landed softly in a little corner obscured by comforting shadow. They hadn’t broken the illusion; as they stepped out onto the street, nobody paid them any heed. To the people around them, they were nothing more than an ordinary couple. Xemnas offered him his hand. Stunned by his radiance, Saïx reached for his soothing shade in the blinding light, slipping his smaller hand into Xemnas’s palm. He felt those strong, sturdy fingers grip down around him, tying his flittering mind back into his earthly body. 

“Come, Saïx,” Xemnas commanded, snapping him back to reality, as he gave his arm a gentle tug. “There is ‘fashionably late,’ and then there is simply… late. It would be terribly rude of us to venture into the territory of the latter, do you not agree?”

“No, you’re right. Of course I do,” Saïx stammered, smiling like a fool.

He was just about to follow after that insistent tug on his arm when something caught his attention – a flash of fiery red against the pristine, white landscape. Bold and bright, like strawberries in the summertime. Though he knew that he and Xemnas were late as it was and that they didn’t have time for petty distractions, for some reason, unbeknownst to him, Saïx couldn’t stop himself from pausing for a moment to glance back over his shoulder and take a second, closer look. 

From the corner of his eye, he saw him. 

Lea. 

Fluffy red hair that smelled of cheap shampoo and pine tree aerosol. Bright green eyes, shining like emeralds. Silent laughter, muffled by glass, that shook Lea’s thin, wiry frame as though it were made of wedding bells and windchimes, blowing in the gentle breeze. He glanced at his gummi phone and laughed all over again.

He was sitting alone in a booth in a corner café, enjoying a piece of cake and a simple cup of coffee. Eight lumps of sugar and a decent fifty percent cream, more a dessert than anything else. He liked to have biscotti with his coffee. Chocolate chip. 

Saïx still remembered his preferences. 

And he stared longer than he should have. As though he’d overdosed on morphine, he couldn’t move a single muscle. He couldn’t look away, he couldn’t run, he couldn’t _breathe_. Perhaps that was why Lea just so happened to set down his gummi phone at that precise moment. Perhaps Saïx had delayed himself long enough for the gods to realize what he was doing and to turn against him, just as they always did. Lost in thought, Lea glanced away from his cake and out through the window. 

And their eyes met. 

He’d started wearing them again, he noticed – the little reversed tears, painted on his cheeks in bright, startling blue. They stared at each other, and Lea’s eyes grew wide. Time stopped for him. Dropping his fork, Lea straightened his back and ran a reflexive hand through his unruly, red hair. 

For what felt like an eternity, they looked at each other. 

The memories came rushing back to him in a wave. Childhood. Lea, cradling him as he cried on the sidewalk, gathering his change, after the ice cream man had driven past the both of them. Lea, taking his hand and grounding him as he led him into the dark forest in search of a haunted mansion that they never did find. Lea, kissing him in the back of a car in summertime. 

_‘Say Isa,’_ he’d asked him, once, in what seemed like another lifetime entirely. _‘Have you ever thought about what life would have been like if we’d stayed together in high school?’_

He hadn’t. He never had. Not once in his forty long years of life. 

But for some reason, though he knew it was suicide, with Lea, looking at him through the window, Saïx couldn’t stop his mind from wandering through the maze of the endless possibilities. 

\------

“…You ready, Isa?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Hand in hand, dressed to the nines in their caps and gowns, Lea led him into their high school auditorium, to the graduation ceremony that would officially mark the end of their childhood. There was a certain, dignified sorrow in that. And yet, perhaps growing up, in and of itself, was not so fatal as process as Isa had always imagined. Emerging from the chrysalis, his body and his mind would certainly change, but he would always remain his old self at heart. Just Isa, beginning a new life full of mystery, hope, and wonder – and perhaps just a little bit of danger, too. 

He wasn’t afraid. It was nothing that he and Lea couldn’t handle together.

Lea was so brave, after all, and Isa, careful and logical. Together, they were the best of both worlds, and they could accomplish anything. They were going to make something of themselves. Isa didn’t believe in fate or the unbreakable blood ties of family bonds. He certainly didn’t believe in the system, as cynical as he was. 

But he believed in Lea.

Even if Lea had gotten rejected by every university he’d applied to, at the very least, they still had each other. And the silver lining was that Lea, now, had no other commitments to keep him from following him to the capital. Two small town boys, getting lost in the big city. What would they ever do with themselves with all that time? Or perhaps a better question to ask was: when the world was so large, what would they ever do _first_? They could learn parkour and explore the city on foot. They could take the train to a random station and spend the afternoon on a spontaneous outing. 

They would definitely have to take a cooking class together to make up for their combined crushing failure in food science, back in high school. As a newly married couple, at least one of them had to know how to prepare a decent meal once in a while – though it would be far more fun if they could learn to cook together.

Isa got butterflies in his stomach just thinking about their upcoming wedding, scheduled for a mere two months after graduation, right before it was time for him to head off to university with Lea in tow. When both of their parents disapproved of their relationship, they had no money for a proper ceremony. They had no other option but to get married at the courthouse, with promises to renew their vows later on, when they were fully grown and better prepared to buy layer cakes and fancy suits. But those items hardly mattered to him. He could be homeless and perfectly content, so long as he had Lea by his side. 

“They’re calling your name!” Lea whispered harshly, practically bursting with excitement. “Get up! Go! Get going!”

“Okay, okay…” he laughed, struggling to stand as Lea literally pushed him, hooting and hollering his name the second he stepped onto the stage.

\------

“Alright, on three!” Lea declared, practically bubbling over with excitement. His heels, bouncing. 

“Just wait a minute… I don’t think this is a good idea,” Isa grumbled, staring up those tall, imposing steps. “Maybe we should leave this stuff in the truck and call a moving company in the morning.”

“It’s too late for that,” Lea argued back with a chiming laugh. “Come on, don’t chicken out! We’re almost done!” That was because they’d left all of the heavy lifting for last. “And just think of it this way: this couch is the heaviest thing on the truck. Once we get this bad boy up into the living room, it’s all downhill from here. We can do this, Isa. Come on, just look at us. We’re macho!” 

Oh, they were a lot of things, alright, but Isa would have never called either of them “macho.” He was a pencil pusher. An office man. And Lea? Lea was the scrawniest person he’d ever seen. Thin as a noodle and just as flimsy. 

“Who? _You_? You’re nothing but skin and bone,” Isa hissed, through with no true malice in his voice. “Honestly, I’m shocked that you haven’t been blown away by the wind by now.”

“Oh wait, what’s that? I think I feel a stiff breeze coming on! You better hold onto me, so I don’t fly away,” Lea winked, clinging to his arm, as shameless as ever. 

Rolling his eyes, Isa clung onto to the sofa instead, with Lea, quickly following his lead as he snorted and laughed.

“Alright, are you ready? On three. …One, two, _three_!” 

With their arms, shaking, they dragged their secondhand sofa up the steps to their new apartment. Though it just was a tiny, little set of rooms, horribly outdated, their new home was a clear upgrade from their efficiency apartment at the edge of the university, where they had shared a single, twin sized bed for a full four years. 

The couch was only the beginning. All in all, it had taken them a full thirteen hours, working from sunrise to sunset, just to get everything into their apartment. Gasping for breath, Isa collapsed at their folding kitchen table, exhausted. His arms felt like jelly. In sharp contrast, however, Lea was as energetic as ever. 

“Not bad!” Lea announced, giving himself a round of applause, as he took in the glory of their new living room. “Look at this place! It’s like we’re real adults, living in a real apartment! This is, like, ten times better than my parent’s shack out in the boondocks.”

Throwing himself down onto the couch, Lea kicked off his shoes and peeled off his cartooned-patterned socks before throwing his feet up onto the arm of the sofa like a caveman. So uncivilized. There were still mornings when he had to nag at Lea to pick up his laundry from the floor, but in truth… Isa wouldn’t have had it any other way. 

It was just so him. 

“I can’t say it’s better than my father’s house,” Isa sighed, still resting his head on the table. “But at the very least, it’s ours.”

“Come on. You don’t think our apartment is better than your dad’s stupid cookie cutter mansion? I think you just need to get used to it, first. Live in it a little… if you know what I mean.”

Smiling, Lea beckoned him closer, his long fingers, curling in a gentle wave, seeking out his affection. Despite his reservations and his legendary frigidity, Isa never could refuse an invitation from Lea when he wore that stupid, flirty smile. Standing up from his seat at the table, Isa crossed the room and reached for Lea’s hand. With reckless abandon, Lea slipped his jacket off of his shoulders, letting it crumple onto the floor, alongside his shoes and socks. Isa paid the mess no heed, content to drape himself over Lea’s body. Closing his eyes, he didn’t struggle as gentle fingers wove into his short, blue hair, pulling him in for kiss that was just as warm and as perfectly sweet as the first one they’d shared when they were nothing more than children.

“Oh yeah,” Lea chuckled, nodding. “Our place is way better.”

Lea’s shoulder strained as reached back, grasping for the little cord hanging from the window, batting at it until it fell between his fingers. With a gentle twist, Lea shuttered the room in darkness, closing their little slice of paradise off from the rest of the world, if only for a single, treasured moment. 

\------

“Hey,” Lea prompted, as he made breakfast one morning, “What do you say we leave the kids with the babysitter for a night and you and me can do something fun for once?”

“What do you have in mind?”

Cursed with champagne tastes on a boxed wine budget, it wasn’t as though Isa could aim for the stars when it came to creature comforts. His income had been more than enough to sustain two adults in near luxury, but then Lea had insisted on adopting a little pair of foster children, and now they were back to clipping coupons and buying in bulk, just like they had been during university. 

Not that he regretted going through with the adoption.

Isa had once considered himself vehemently childfree, but from the way Lea had described the concept of family, of doing better than their parents had, his unwavering stance on the matter had fractured. As the years passed, Isa had begun to consider just what kind of mark he would leave on the world. According to Lea, they both had plenty of love to share with others. On top of that, Isa had his wisdom, and Lea had his joy and his humor. When there were so many unhappy families, why shouldn’t they be the ones to break the cycle? Why couldn’t they give a new pair of children a youth as wonderful as the one that they had shared together, all those years ago? 

Everybody died, but in their children’s memories, in their legacy, they would live on for all the generations to come. There was something wonderful about that concept.

As Isa ran the rat race, climbing up the corporate ladder to sit in his private office as a senior financial analyst, he’d traded his little apartment in the dirty corner of the city for a four-bedroom house in the suburbs. They lived comfortably, though never luxuriously, on Isa’s lofty salary and Lea’s higher wage, after getting promoted from delivery boy to manager, but they couldn’t afford to waste their money when the kids just kept on getting bigger. Every year, and it was new school supplies, new toys. They were eating more. Needing new clothes. 

Isa didn’t mind. 

They were his kids, after all. He’d been the one to name them, and change their diapers, and watch over their growth from babies, to toddlers, to unique, free-thinking individuals. They kept him young. He wouldn’t still be playing videogames if it weren’t for them. Surprisingly enough, family game night was the highlight of his workweek – even if he enjoyed the companionship more than the videogames, themselves. Sure, he didn’t have a beachside summerhouse by forty, like he’d planned, but having dollhouses and two little girls that clung to his legs, who smiled up at him the second he got home from work, was fulfilling enough, in its own right. 

“A friend from work told me that there was a new café that opened up in central square,” Lea said. “It’s supposed to have the best cake in the city.”

“You know that I don’t like sweets,” Isa grumbled. “And I thought that your doctor told you to watch your blood sugar from now on.”

Lea shrugged, his smile, lopsided and carefree.

“You only live once,” he said, though when Isa shot him back a scathing glare, he sighed, lifting his hands in placating surrender. “Look, you don’t even have to eat the cake. That’s not the reason I wanted to take you there, anyway. What got me excited was when I heard that they brew their own chai. Who knows – maybe it could put your secret recipe to shame.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” Isa snapped.

“Do you? I think you’re just afraid to find out that someone has better taste than you do!” Lea challenged, throwing a dish rag at him as he laughed and laughed…

The die was cast, and the challenge was on. 

Scooping up that dish rag, Isa stood and tossed it back at Lea, splattering his face with soapy water. Not even eight in the morning, and they were already making a mess of the kitchen. 

\------

“You know, Isa, to be honest, I never really thought we’d get this far,” Lea muttered with gentle thoughtfulness, as he watched the snow come down from outside the window of their booth in the little corner café. 

“What do you mean?” Isa asked, taking another sip of the chai that most certainly wasn’t as good as his custom recipe. 

Lea sighed, shooting him an embarrassed smile, as he scraped the excess frosting off of his cake. 

“When we were kids, I was actually afraid of growing up,” he confessed. “I always knew you’d make something of yourself, but… I didn’t have much of anything going for me. You know? I was always the dumb kid, or the class clown. Honestly, I was kind of scared that I’d grown up and find out that I peaked in high school, or that I’d have no job, no prospects… no boyfriend.”

“Did you honestly think that I would leave you?” he scoffed. 

After meeting each other in daycare, they’d always been together, thick as thieves, regardless of their differences. Isa didn’t understand how or why growing up would change anything. After all, even after adopting their children, they were always careful to make time for each other. Perhaps the other parents on the schoolboard would have sneered at him for holding such an unorthodox viewpoint, but Isa’s first priority in life was not his daughters but his relationship with Lea. And he was certain that Lea felt the very same way. Their daughters were a wonderful addition to their lives, but without each other, they _had_ no lives.

Without each other, they were nothing.

“I’m not saying I don’t trust you,” Lea was quick to clarify. “I’m just saying that it’s pretty obvious to anyone who looks at us that you’re way out of my league. Even I know that. I’ve known it since we were kids. There was always this little voice in the back of my head that would tell me you’d find someone better in university, or later, at work, and leave me in the dust. So… I guess I just want to say thanks. Thanks for sticking with me.”

Leaning over the table, Isa pressed a gentle kiss to Lea’s lips, still covered in jam and powdered sugar. 

“You never had anything to worry about,” he reassured him. “I told you before, when we were children: you’re all that ever interests me. And you are all that ever will. I love you.”

He watched in wonder and intense, unflinching focus, as Lea’s startled expression melted into a gentle smile, glowing with the warmth and tenderness of his affection. A soft blush blossomed over his cheeks, handsome and endearing.

“I love you, too,” Lea replied, taking Isa’s hand and running his thumb over his knuckles – over the little, titanium wedding band on his ring finger. “More than anything. I always have.” 

With Isa, as introverted and quiet as he was, and with Lea, always so busy with the kids, they simply didn’t have time to go out and expand their social circles. Their world consisted of nothing more than each other. Even after all those years, they were still best friends. Inseparable.

With his hand still cradled in Lea’s, Isa looked out the window and watched the gentle snow come down.

______________________________________

Saïx couldn’t quite say how much time had passed since he’d stood there, watching him. Paralyzed, he stared through the window. He didn’t move. He didn’t blink. Frozen in time, lost in the snowfall, Saïx saw his life and lost potential flash before his eyes like the curling pages of a book, burning up in the fire. 

He saw _Isa’s_ life flash before his eyes.

Shuddering in the agony of another man’s death throes, Saïx felt his senses leave him. His field of vision tunneled, and darkness clouded the corners of his consciousness. A shocking numbness spread from his toes, to his feet, twisting up his bones on a thousand legs and shooting up his spine like lightning. A horrible ringing droned through his ears, piercing and shrill. 

He felt like a dead man walking. 

Bound by Lea’s petrifying gaze, he couldn’t break free of the nails in his coffin. Sheer, unrelenting dread had severed the cords between his mind and his body. He couldn’t bear to look upon Lea any longer, and yet he couldn’t turn away. He’d lost the ability to move. His body would no longer respond to his commands, and for just a moment, Saïx had believed that Lea had felt the very same way, sitting still as a statue in the café window. 

…But then he saw it. The softening in his posture. The light in his eyes. From behind a veil of falling snow, Lea leaned against the glass to get a closer look. Burning the image of Saïx, standing in the snow, into the archives of his memory. 

In the stillness of the night, Lea looked at him and smiled.

But of course he did. Lea always had been the courageous one out of the two of them. And just as always, it was Lea that gave him strength, returning the motion to his paralyzed body, replacing the batteries in his broken clock. 

The future that he’d dreamed of, Isa’s future, was unattainable. Roxas and Xion had changed Lea’s priorities, just as Xemnas had heightened Saïx’s already lofty expectations. For better or worse, the Organization had changed them beyond repair. Isa was Saïx, now.

And perhaps it was finally time for him to admit that his Lea was more Axel, now, than anything else.

Following Axel’s lead, Saïx looked into his eyes, taking note of every detail, every wrinkle on his face, and tucked it away into the confines of his memory, resolving the image of the stranger in the window with the childhood friend that he’d long left behind. Accepting him as who he was, Saïx looked up at Axel and smiled back.

Before he could lift his hand to wave, however, two people whom he did not know entered the room and took a seat across from Axel. A mature, young woman sat closest to the window, followed by a man of similar age. With her neat, black hair, trimmed into a modern pixie cut, and with just the right touches of make-up, she exuded maturity and elegance and reminded Saïx of… her. She was beautiful. And the man who sat beside her was just about as tall as Axel and almost twice as muscular. If Saïx had challenged him to yet another duel, there was no doubt in his mind that the boy-turned-man would put him in his place, all over again. Though a part of him had wanted to stay, Saïx knew that their return had marked the end of the eclipse, that chance event, once in a lifetime, when the sun and the moon aligned at just the right angle and at just the right moment. 

With one last, lingering glance, overflowing with the hopes and dreams of a future unlived, Axel cast him one, last smile, before turning away to greet his friends. At the very same time, Saïx felt a gentle squeeze around his hand. Xemnas wove their fingers together, holding him tight.

“Is everything alright?” he asked, looking back at him with a soft, gentlemanly smile. “You look rather pale.”

“I’m fine,” Saïx replied, shaking his head to brush away the sparks. For a moment, he considered leaving the conversation at that, until the urge to speak bubbled up within him, overflowing. “…Do you know who it was that I saw, over there, in the café?” he asked, unable to resist.

“Pray tell.”

“It was… It was Axel.” Saïx caught himself before he’d said a name that existed, now, only in memory. 

“What fortuitous timing,” Xemnas remarked with feigned cheer, his insincerity, made evident only by the stiffness in his jaw. Everything else was a perfect deception: his smile, his body language, the wrinkles around his eyes. “Would you care to go inside and say hello?”

“You won’t be angry?” Saïx chuckled, reaching up to stroke his lover’s cheek. “I can see you clenching your jaw.”

Effectively called out on his disingenuousness, Xemnas was more than willing to drop his charade.

“I won’t be pleased,” he admitted, his frown, deepening. “But the fact remains that Number VIII was your childhood friend. Even if I do not approve of a rekindling of that friendship, I can understand your longing for it. I want you to be happy, Saïx. If you would like to speak with him, then I will not stop you from doing so.” 

Touched by the sentiment of Xemnas’s sacrifice, Saïx couldn’t help but smile all over again, holding onto his lover’s arm, as the snow continued to fall.

“No, that’s quite alright. …I’m already happy,” he answered, stroking Xemnas's shoulder. “Regardless, we’ve dallied long enough, wouldn’t you agree? We should hurry, if we would like to be perceived as ‘fashionably late’ instead of simply late.”

“Right you are,” Xemnas agreed with a smile, as fondly familiar as ever. “Shall we go?”

Casting one last glance through the café window, Saïx bid his past a final farewell and followed Xemnas through the snowy streets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> My first foray into Kingdom Heart fanfiction was definitely a fun one! I really appreciated the opportunity to share this story and to speak with everyone in the comments! Please do let me know what you thought about my writing - about the world, or the characters, or the themes I wanted to portray. 
> 
> I hope that you enjoyed To Live as much as I enjoyed writing it, and I hope that you will enjoy my next story just as much.


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